Wounded - Book Three of the Nickhoales Series
by MorningStar1399
Summary: Continuation of An Unyielding, Horrifying Love and Pain Of An Eighth Grade Genius: Now that she's escaped captivity, Amy Nickhoales needs to find help-and fast. But once her situation is taken care of, what will she do afterwards? Rating changed from T to M due to language and occasionally graphic content.
1. One

**Author's Note:**

**So, to those who have followed this series from the beginning: IT'S HERE! And yes, the end is near! Actually, we've got quite a few chapters to get through first.**

**To those of you who have just started reading this from this book: I seriously suggest you start from the beginning, which is, as stated in the summary, ****_An Unyielding, Horrifying Love_****. The second's ****_Pain of An Eighth Grade Genius_****. This story will mention a lot of what has happened before this, including flashbacks of the past.**

**So, I hope all readers - new and old - enjoy what I have to write, and please PM me with any questions you may have!**

**Now, as my hands beg me to type and my mind begs me to let loose, I shall finally begin the end of this story.**

* * *

**Friday, February 10th, 2012 5:30 PM  
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, VA**

Hotch sighed as he glanced at the clock. Already he'd felt he was missing something in regards to Amy's case, but he couldn't be sure. No videos had been posted or emailed to any of the team all day, meaning something was wrong. Why couldn't he place his nagging feeling that something bad was happening?

Prentiss walked in quietly, JJ in tow. Prentiss looked ready to leave, with her bag on her shoulder and her coat on her arm. JJ merely held a file in her hand.

"What is it?" Hotch asked, sitting as he gestured for the two agents to sit in front of him.

As Prentiss sat, she said, "Hotch, I feel...almost as if Amy was trying to tell us something with that last song."

"More than one something," JJ added. "It was almost as if...she were warning us of something."

Everyone remained silent as they contemplated what the girl could possibly have been leading to.

"A possible escape attempt?" Hotch said suddenly. He pulled up the last video.

As he hit play, Morgan walked in saying, "Possibly."

The lyrics that came out of Amy's mouth were coated in her emotion, but Hotch couldn't tell if she were acting or telling the truth. Her voice was sweet, but the words were tainted with regret. She smiled, but the lines were thrust from her mouth bitterly. She seemed happy, but Hotch caught faint tears forming in her eyes.

As Rossi walked in with Garcia, the song ended, and Hotch felt sure there were multiple meanings behind the lyrics and her body language.

Rossi pointed to the screen. "Did she actually break down into tears at the end?"

Hotch nodded grimly. "Yes."

"And are we sure this means she's only in pain? Because I just got an email of a YouTube video, and you will not believe what the song was."

JJ turned to him. "What was it?"

"'Straight To You' by Josh Groban."

Everyone's eyes widened.

"Amy sang that song once, didn't she?" Garcia asked.

Hotch nodded. "Yes, but it can only mean one thing this time, especially since it wasn't her singing it, now was it?"

Rossi nodded. "She's escaped, and Stan's found out."

* * *

**Friday February 10th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States.**

Amy leaned up against a tree for the fifteenth time, catching her breath. The sky was almost black, with only the moon and a few stars to act as lights for guidance. She hardly knew if she was following the tire treds anymore, let alone if she were wandering in circles. No, she couldn't be - the incline was to her back, meaning she was still traveling downhill.

Amy slid down the length of the tree, finally allowing herself to sit for once. The snow she had seen the day before Reid had arrived in Stan's clutches was melting in patches, exposing fallen leaves, twigs, mud, dirt, and the roots of the trees.

She slipped her backpack from her shoulders, pulling out her water bottle. Unscrewing the lid, she sipped some of the clear liquid, then put it back in her pack, making sure it was secure and in its proper place. Then, she removed her boot and rolled up the left leg of her pants to expose a large purplish-blackish-yellowish bruise just below her knee where a low-hanging branch had caught her off-guard in the wintry darkness. Turning her head away, she carefully rolled down the pant leg again and slipped on the boot. Standing, she proceeded to follow the tire tracks downhill, staying in the shelter of the trees. She never allowed herself to think of why she was running anymore, as it would cause her to stop and possibly turn back. All she did was keep an eye on the tire tracks and jog, slowing only when truly necessary.

She had been running for about an hour when a flickering light caught her attention. It flickered again, then steadied, turning into two lights. That's when she made out the shape of a white van - _Stan's white van_ - and everything made sense. Instincts took over, and she sprinted away from the safety of the tire tracks, not daring to look back and see if she was being followed. All she heard was her footsteps over the dead leaves and snow and her ragged breathing as she sprinted.

A creek suddenly loomed ahead, and without even really giving it much thought, she ran right through it. That was what made her stop. The water was freezing, reaching just below her knees, clinging to her clothes and skin, not allowing warmth to seep in. She clenched her teeth as the frigidity of the water caused her bruise to suddenly burst in pain. It took all Amy's strength to remain standing and keep walking forward through the creek. Finally she was through, but the icy pain still remained, immobilizing her legs until finally she gave up and collapsed under a tree. Her left knee had locked up on her, and when she rolled up her pants, both legs were covered in red splotches from the knees down. The pain where her bruise was had been numbed, and all she could hope as she rolled down her soaking-and-slowly-freezing pant legs was that she wouldn't have frostbite. That's when she remembered the extra clothes she had packed, and dug around for the pair of comfy jeans she sought. Finally, she had them in her grasp and quickly changed from her sopping pants to the dry jeans. Each pair of socks were removed until finally the pink flesh of her feet was shown. Amy then took out the other pairs of socks she had and put on every single pair, then put her boots back on. She put the wet clothes in the place of the other clothes, far away from everything else in their own pocket.

Once she was satisfied everything was as okay as it could be considering her current position, she nimbly scaled the tree she had been sitting beneath, and climbed as high as she dared. Once she found a branch she felt could support her weight, she took the rope she had found and secured herself to the tree so she couldn't fall off before allowing herself to regain her much-needed rest.


	2. Two

**Author's Note:**

**To all of those that celebrate it: HAPPY BELATED THANKSGIVING!**

**Continuing with the chapter...**

* * *

**Saturday, February 11th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

Amy woke with a start, almost falling from her tree. The sun was already high in the sky, meaning she'd slept for much longer than she wanted. As she untied herself and climbed down the tree, she tried to think of what had woken her, but not even a usual nightmare had startled her, which was very odd. Then she remembered the bright flashlight shining up at her tree, Stan's voice calling her, and then being caught and killed. Right, so that was her nightmare.

Taking a good look around, Amy surveyed where she was. It looked no different than what she had been passing through, except now a creek ran alongside her. And there were no tire tracks. Amy nearly panicked as she searched for them, but they were nowhere in sight. Frustrated, she kicked at the ground, sending a shower of snow and dirt into the air. A _plop! _from a rock landing in the creek caught her attention. She spun around, facing the creek. She carefully studied its current, dropping a few leaves inside to follow it, then smiled. She wasn't entirely lost after all! All she would have to do was go downstream with the creek, and then she should find some part of a trail or even a road leading her out and into a town! Amy nearly cried out in happiness, then her stomach growled and she collapsed to the ground in disappointment. When was her last meal? She had no idea what the time was, considering she hardly knew the date, but she did know she was hungry. Taking out an apple from her pack, she ate it as she walked along the creek, heading downstream.

Hours had passed since that morning, and soon the sun was starting to set, disappearing behind her. Amy stopped for a moment, pulling out a granola bar and tearing it in half, eating one half as she continued walking, then eating the other half as she stopped to think of where she could possibly be heading. Based on her surroundings, Amy decided she must be close to getting out, but she wasn't entirely sure on what that meant. She knew that being closer to leaving the forest meant she was closer to getting help for Reid, Mr. Bronsky, Mrs. Meyes, and Cameron, and that Stan would finally face justice for what he has done and what he could be doing.

A few tears fell from her eyes as everyone's face and name came to mind. Rebecca, her blue eyes gleaming with a sweet smile, her brown hair done up in her classic braided ponytail. Arthur, his hazel eyes barely visible with his laughter, his blonde hair feathery soft. Annabelle, her hazel eyes going cross-eyed as she stuck out her tongue, her long blonde hair straightened and flat against her back. Sarah and Shelly, their brown hair up in high ponytails with pink and blue ribbon, their brown eyes gleaming as they took their bows after performing _Annie_ the past year for the musical. All of their parents. Domonick, his sly smile, his gentle laugh, everything Amy could hope to be - gone. Rachel and Grace, Aunt Clara and Uncle Lars, Uncle Fred, Laura, Dres, Ben, and Damien, Mr. Fallow, little Natalie, André, Jon, Kyle, Casey, the rest of the dance class, her mother, the rest of the students, teachers and staff at BMS, those girls murdered in Quantico (yes, Stan was behind all of those), all those people on the train, all of them. Gone, and never returning. All of them, dead, except for her, the connection to each and every one of them. Not to mention Reid, Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron, and the good part of Stan that she would never see again. Their lives were destroyed because of her. Amy vowed she would make it up to them somehow in any way possible if they all made it out alive.

Amy shook her head, concentrating on the creek again. She continued following it after sipping some more water from her water bottle, deciding she would not stop walking until it became dire she rested or until she was out of the woods.

* * *

**Monday, February 13th, 2012 8:39 AM  
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, VA**

Hotch walked quickly to Garcia's office where he was surprised to see the entire team gathered around her, staring at something on one of her many screens. He walked over to find it a map of the entire East Coast, a highlight around every state from Connecticut to Virginia, following the Appalachian Mountains.

"What do we have?" Hotch asked.

Morgan jumped at the sound of his voice, but Garcia said, "Oh, just the possible region where Stan could be, meaning where we could start looking."

Hotch nodded. "Well, I'm heading to North Carolina today to talk to the jewelers at that store Reid was last seen at. I'll see if they know what direction they headed in. It just might give us a better idea on where to start looking."

JJ nodded in agreement. "I'll go with you."

"I had a feeling you might volunteer," Hotch confessed.

"When do we leave?" JJ asked.

"As soon as we can. I just have to secure a sitter for Jack."

"I'm sure Will wouldn't mind if he stayed at our place with Henry," JJ offered.

"Thanks," Hotch said with a slight smile.

* * *

Soon the two were driving out to North Carolina, and soon they were headed in the direction given by the clerk who had helped Reid and Stan last. However, they came to a four-way intersection, meaning Stan could have gone in any direction he wanted.

"Well, it was a start," Hotch said as he turned right to find a hotel.

"And a good lead," JJ added.

"True. If only we knew more," Hotch said as he pulled into a Comfort Inn.

The two got out of the car as soon as he parked, heading inside. They got a two-bed room, and headed up to it, hardly bothering with food or coffee.

Hotch turned on the TV for background noise as he thought of everything he had been blind to throughout this case. He still could be blind to even more, which was why he was glad he had JJ with him. Hotch sat on the edge of his bed while JJ took a shower, trying to think of something he could have missed. Finding nothing off the top of his head, he stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the Appalachians. The foothills were shrouded in thick woods, almost like a sea of brown and white...

That's when it clicked. Hotch nearly broke the table next to him as he hurriedly grabbed a pen and a piece of hotel stationery, scribbling out a note for JJ before racing from the hotel, driving out to where he hoped would be a road Amy might come across in her trek out of the forest, if he was right.


	3. Three

**Author's Note:**

**To all of you who have not heard about the shooting in Newtown, CT at Sandy Hook Elementary School today around 9 AM, it was and still is a devastating event. All the schools in the surrounding areas (like mine) were in lockdown. Kids in my class as well as myself were searching for information on their phones as we waited for the all-clear. In total, 27 people were shot and killed, 18 being children under the age of 11. The man was 24-years-old. Among the adults killed were his mother, the school principal, the mother of one of my teachers, and himself. My heart and prayers go out to all the families involved, and today we all have been shown how easily it is to take advantage of friends and family.**

**This chapter, despite how late it is, is dedicated to all those lost and their families as well as those who wait for answers about their family and friends inside the school at the time.**

* * *

**Monday, February 13th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalachians, United States**

Amy slipped down the steep hill she was crossing. She could have sworn she heard a car go by, meaning a road had to be close. As soon as she could get to it, she could find someone to help her find the FBI and, eventually, the four that depended on her finding help.

* * *

Hotch had a gut feeling Amy was nearby, but couldn't be sure as to how near she was. He decided he'd go up and down the road he was on until dark, then return and look again the next day. He grasped the steering wheel and shook his head, hoping Amy was alright after whatever she had endured. After making so many mistakes regarding her safety, he just hoped he wouldn't be making another one.

* * *

JJ stepped out of the shower and grabbed her towel. She heard the hotel room TV on quietly, and tried to smile as she dried herself off and got dressed. She walked out of the bathroom with her dirty clothes and was about to say something when she realized Hotch wasn't in the room. Her eyes strayed to the small table and locked on the note he had written before leaving. She dropped everything she held, walked over to it, and read read it.

_JJ-_

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I'm looking for Amy. I have a gut feeling she's here, in the moutains. For some reason, I feel she's coming out of them soon, so I'll be scanning the hills for any sign of her._

_Don't try to follow me-I have the SUV. I should be back before it gets too dark or too late._

_-Hotch_

JJ crumpled the note as she grabbed it and her purse, gun, and badge, racing out of the hotel room and out onto the street. She signalled a cab, then hopped in, telling the driver to go in the directions she told him. When he said he needed an address or a building name, she flashed her badge and said that she didn't have one, but had a hunch as to where she needed to go. As soon as she put away her badge the cabbie hit the gas and drove in the directions she gave him.

* * *

Amy fell again, rolling and tumbling down yet anothe steep hill. _That's one way to speed up your escape from the woods_, she thought as she slammed into yet another tree, bruising her hip again.

* * *

Hotch turned around, driving back the direction he had just been. The sun was starting to set, and he was worried he'd missed Amy or had been wrong. He would hate it if he was wrong again. He'd already failed her too many times, he couldn't fail her again.

* * *

JJ felt sure this was the road Hotch would have taken, as they were right next to the edge of the woods covering the foothills of the Appalachians. She told the cabbie to slow down, considering she needed to keep a close eye on what came out of the woods. He gave her a confused look, but slowed down anyways.

* * *

Amy saw it: the road was close! She picked herself up and started running down the hill, only to trip and fall down half of her remaining distance. _Almost there..._

* * *

_C'mon, Amy, where are you?_ Hotch thought as he drummed his steering wheel nervously. Suddenly, a young girl ran out in front of her just as a cab started to drive up closer. _What the...oh no-that cabbie's going to kill her! I'M going to kill her!_ Hotch slammed on the brakes as Amy turned her head to look Hotch straight in the eyes then whipped her head around and screamed as the cab came barrelling closer, almost crushing her...

* * *

JJ saw her and the black SUV and instantly shouted, "THERE! GO THERE!"

The cabbie followed her orders, speeding up as he approached the edge of the woods.

_Oh shit, he's going to kill her!_ JJ thought, then shouted, "No! Don't kill her! Stop!"

The cabbie slammed his foot on the brakes but the fright on Amy's face and in her scream was all too obvious that she knew she was probably going to die...

* * *

Amy prepared for the worst, and suddenly, she was flying. She landed on the other side of the road in - oddly enough - a patch of springy, soft moss. She turned her head to see Hotch racing over to her as well as JJ rushing from the cab, shouting at the driver to stay put. Her wrist hurt, but none of her other pains were from the accident.

"Amy!" Hotch exclaimed. "Amy, are you alright?"

Amy nodded.

"Hon, I'm going to get an ambulance on its way now, just hold tight and keep calm," JJ said, her cell phone pressed to her ear.

Amy nodded, her eyes widening suddenly. "But what about Dr. Reid and Cameron and everyone else?" Tears were forming in her eyes and voice.

Hotch took her painless hand. "We'll find them, don't you worry. Did you find an address or anything of that nature that could help us find them?"

Amy shook her head. "No, the driveway's hardly even a driveway. I looked, but Stan picked the perfect place. It's so deep in the woods and...gosh, mountains..." She trailed off, staring at where she had come from.

"What about the woods? Where exactly is it?" Hotch asked as JJ hung up.

"I couldn't tell you. I'd have to show you. That's the only way you'll ever find it. It blends in so perfectly with the woods around it...oh we have to go now!"

Hotch shook his head. "I'm sorry, Amy, but we have to get you looked at first. Reid would want it, and I'm sure you'll feel quite a bit better and more able to remember it if you got a little rest and something to eat and..." Hotch cut himself off as Amy's tears turned into sobs.

"Oh, I should never have left! They're probably dead by now! I'm so sorry, Dr. Reid! I'm so sorry Cameron! I'm so sorry..." Amy cried hysterically as Hotch tried to calm her down.

It was JJ who spoke, though. "Hush, darling. We're going to find them, they're going to be alright. Stan won't kill them, I know it. He knows they mean too much to you to kill them off. He knows they'll be what brings you back, so it would be pointless to make you come back for nothing. We're going to find them, I promise you that."

Sirens pierced the air suddenly as the ambulance approached. Hotch flagged it down, and soon Amy was being loaded onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.

JJ turned to Hotch. "I'm sorry I came out here against your orders. I just felt you might need me."

Hotch patted her shoulder. "It's okay. And thanks. You were right, as you always are."

JJ smiled. "I'd better pay the cab driver, then I'll stay with Amy."

"I'll take care of it. You go so they can get her there faster."

"You sure?" JJ asked.

Hotch smiled. "See you in the hospital."

JJ smiled. "See you there, Hotch. I'll be sure to call the team while I'm there." With that, JJ hopped up into the ambulance and it sped away, leaving Hotch alone with the cab driver, Amy's backpack, and a promise he made to himself and needed to keep.


	4. Four

**Author's Note:**

**IT'S. ABOUT. STINKING. TIME!**

**Believe me - I'm scolding myself for the late hour and the lateness of the update!**

**So, without further ado, allow me to continue!**

* * *

**Monday, February 13th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalachians, United States**

Reid sighed as he sat, still tied to the chair he had woken in when Amy first came down and found him. _Gosh, how much time really has passed since I arrived? Since Amy left?_ he thought. _If she gets hurt..._ Reid shuddered at the thought, for he knew very well that if she got hurt, it would be his fault for making her go.

Things had changed when Stan returned to find Amy gone. First, there was a period of disbelief, then anger, then true grief, then he snapped and returned to normal... just a bit more cautious. Reid discovered that Stan really _did_ love Amy unconditionally and uncontrollably, and her running away as an act of courage and, to be quite honest, sincere need, the man was in pain. _But still_, Reid thought. _How could a 52-year-old man fall in love with a 13-year-old girl and expect her to be happy? Especiallly with the way he treated her?_ No, Amy had not given Reid details, but he knew there was a routine, and that his arrival thrust large portions of it out the window, ending literally with Amy leaving through the only available window she could find.

Yes, things had changed indeed when Stan returned to find Amy gone. First there was the tying-up of the other three - _Oh, what were their names again? Right - Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron Bronsky. Forget first names; they'll tell you when you all are out_ - and spending long peroids of time down there in the basement with them. Stan always sat on the same four-legged, wooden stool in the same position every time, staring at the same place in the same doorway every time, holding the same gun in the same hand every time. Whatever one thought of when it came to repetition and repeating patterns, Reid felt he would forever thing of Stan when it came to it.

It took all his strength to actually admit his thoughts aloud to Stan. "You know," Reid said one day, "I'm starting to think she isn't coming back. It's been, what, a week?"

But Stan wasn't as phased as Reid thought. "Something like that, yeah," he admitted.

Mr. Bronsky and Mrs. Meyes exchanged panicked looks as Reid continued. "It's just a shame she doesn't care enough to come back, huh?"

Cameron laughed nervously. "Eh heh heh, I really don't think it's her not caring as much as it is her not being able to. I mean, wouldn't those agents working on the case not let her leave their sight?"

"But they'd be coming here anyways, and she's the only one to lead them," Stan said, turning around to stare at them with bloodshot eyes, his now-constant British accent coming out more than ever. "I specifically designed this location so no one could find it unless you've been here before. From above you can't see it's a house unless you know what you're looking for, which would be a very small break in the trees where a lot of snow was dumped or a lot of grass or moss is growing. By land, the route along the drive is precarious. Sometimes my van acts up, but I manage to get back perfectly fine, don't I?" He nodded in self-satisfaction. "At any rate, only she can lead them here, what with her memory and all, so she has to come. And I have a feeling we'll be seeing them soon."

How right _was_ Stan? Reid could only hope that the vile man was _very_, _very_ right.

* * *

**1/16/13-Sorry this is so short. I was rather "creatively braindead," as I call it. The next chapter - which I will begin writing shortly - will be longer to make up for it, and therefore, more action-packed.**


	5. Five

**Monday, February 13th, 2012 4:02 PM  
A local hospital, North Carolina**

Amy sat on the edge of the gurney, clutching the edge as if it was the only thing keeping her on the planet, her legs swinging back and forth with nerves. The ER doctor had found a sprain in her right wrist and her left ankle was twisted, but other than scratches, bruises, scars, a small cold, and obvious signs of past sexual assault, she was in perfect health.

Hotch walked in finally after talking with JJ and the doctor outside for a few minutes, carrying her backpack. He gestured with his eyes to the bag. "Mind if I have a look?"

Amy sighed. "I kind of have no choice, now don't I? But I'm warning you: The only weapon you'll find in there is a pocketknife, and a lot of the other contents froze during my hike."

JJ's eyes widened, her eyebrows raising. "Your hike? Right, so how long have you been travelling out there in the wilderness?"

"What's the date?" Amy asked.

JJ relayed the date.

Amy shrugged. "I easily could have slept more than I wanted, but I'd say a good...three to five days. Most were spent up running...or stumbling, really. Once I lost the drive-"

Hotch pulled out her diary, but interrupted, asking, "Wait-driveway? Meaning, there's an address, right?"

Amy reached for the object she'd tried not to treasure but for some reason had. "If you'll let me finish, I can explain all of that. Once I lost the drive, I was wandering aimlessly until I ran into the creek. Literally."

"That would explain these," Hotch said, pulling out the sopping remnants of the jeans that had frozen when she pulled them from the creek.

"Oops. I thought I took those out," Amy said. "What a mess."

"It's okay, Amy. You really won't be needing that backpack any time soon," JJ said, putting her hands on the young teen's shoulders. "Now, what's this driveway you mentioned?"

"Sorry, but it's not what you're hoping. I made sure to check: There's no address, and the place is really hard to notice. I was shocked it was so small on the outside, considering how big it was on the inside. Then again, most of it's underground with-" Amy cut herelf off, eyes widening. Suddenly, her right hand with the black brace was flying to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. "Oh God, what have I done? They're dead, I know it! Oh, why did I listen to him? Why did I leave? I knew Stan would be furious, but he made it seem so...pleasureable! I never would have thought...if that man has broken our agreement in any way...!"

Hotch looked up from the diary (yes, he really had been reading it, and had been tempted to throw it at the wall several times in rage), and JJ's soothing look grew tight and confused. "What do you mean?" Hotch asked.

Amy shook her head. "I finally figured out a way to open that window, and addressed my idea to Cameron, Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Dr. Reid-"

"They're all alive?!" JJ cried.

"Maybe! I left, remember? Stan freaking loves me, remember?" Amy cried out, but calmed down quickly, continuing her explaination. "Anyways, I wanted them to come with me, but Dr. Reid refused, saying that Stan would be more likely to pursue us if we all left, and then we'd lose a valuable lead to catching him once and for all...he told me to go, to leave, to escape while the chance stood. Stan was gone for the day, meaning endless things could have been happening. He could have been killing people. He could have been kidnapping someone else, like he did Dr. Reid. He easily could have been grocery shopping for all we knew! But no, he wasn't in that cold house, so the chance was there. Dr. Reid said to take it and go, lead you guys there, find an address, something, anything! But I could see how badly he wanted to join me. It pained me to leave, but he'd made up his mind to make sure I left, so I did. I took everything in that bag, and left. I was following the gravel drive - I mean, makeshift road (curse you Stan and your British vocabulary) - when, at night, two blaring lights scared me, and I ran, veering off my set path and not stopping until I ran into the creek. I saved myself from frostbite, luckily. Somehow I managed to sleep in a tree - Katniss style - and the next thing I knew the sun was shining, the snow melting, and I was freaking out, thinking Stan was close by. I believe I was wrong. Anyways, I only slept once since then, stopping rarely. I've been following a creek, but there's a gap where I'm simply running away from the house and road."

JJ and Hotch exchanged shocked looks.

"Can I have my journal back now? I can tell you've read enough to know just about exactly what was going on there," Amy said, trying to break the silence.

But instead of handing the journal to Amy, Hotch handed it to JJ, saying, "Here. I'll be back. I'm going to step out and talk to the doctor for a moment."

JJ nodded. "Okay. Sure. I'll be here."

Amy turned her head to JJ as Hotch left. "So. Are you going to sit here and read that thing or are you going to ask me to recite it?"

JJ looked at a few of the pages, then closed the journal, handing it to Amy. "Tell me what happened. There is no way I'll be able to read it."

Amy made a pouty face. "Come on it's not that..." She looked at the scrawling script in shock of how messy it became over the entries. "...bad."

* * *

Hotch stood outside the door, his head against the wall. After reading most of the journal entries, he couldn't believe how much violence he had been responsible for. It was his job to prevent things like rape, abduction, abuse, and murder, not cause it! He knew that by following Amy's lead for the rest of this, he'd be making the right choices. She had been right all along. After all, she knew Stan better, and if she hadn't noticed anything different, is there any way a professional could have noticed the carefully hidden signs of his involvement in the murders _and_ his pedophilia? The answer, Hotch decided, was probably not.

Hotch extended his hearing towards where Morgan (who had driven down as soon as he got JJ's call from the jewelry store) was standing, talking to a young nurse. There was the rhythmic clatter of crutches coming from that direction, and soon the nurse was headed to another room and Morgan was talking to the person on crutches, their being not yet shown.

Hotch strained to hear their conversation.

"Where is she?" said a familiar, male voice.

"I just got here myself, sir. I don't know where she is," Morgan answered, almost as if the stranger had some authority over him.

"Well, for the meantime, call me by my alias, Fernand. Howard Fernand. Where's...Agent Hotchner?" said the man.

"I'm not sure. Let me find out. I'll get right back to you. Why don't you have a seat first?" Morgan said, gesturing to the chair he had been standing next to.

"Thank you, Agent Morgan," the stranger said, and soon the man was sitting, a black brace on his left leg extending from just below the hip to just below the knee, extending over his dark jeans.

Morgan turned, and Hotch waved him over. "What's going on?" Hotch asked.

"Hotch, you will not believe who it is," Morgan answered.

"Then tell me who it is," Hotch replied.

Morgan shook his head. "You have to see him for yourself to believe it."

Hotch sighed, but relented. "Alright, let's go."

Morgan nodded, and led the way back over to the man. "Agent, er, Fernand, this is Agent Hotchner."

When the man named Fernand turned his head to let his eyes meet Hotch's, he smiled as Hotch's eyes grew wide. "I see you recognize me."

"You're...dead," Hotch stammered.

"Let's keep the talk of death to a minimum, now shall we?" said the CIA agent, flashing his badge briefly. "Now, how is Amy fairing?"

"Sprained wrist, twisted ankle, more than just physical evidence of previous sexual assault."

"And the perpetrator?" said the Agent.

"Stan Fields," Hotch relayed, noting the beads of sweat dripping down the wounded man's paling face.

"That bastard. Gaining her trust only to abuse her and it."

Morgan shook his head. "Just as Reid suspected."

But Hotch disagreed. "No, just as Reid knew. Just as Amy knew. Just as I refused to believe. To admit."

The Agent shook his head. "Don't blame yourself, Agent Hotchner. I've had suspicions, but never concrete, substantial evidence. I think that your disbelief was really you trying to convince yourself something else wasn't true, distancing yourself from Amy and Reid, those that knew the truth."

"Yeah, the whole 'I-think-Amy-is-my-daughter' thing, for example," Morgan suggested. "And then the fact that one man would be paid to go to confess to crimes he did not commit so the real guy could get his way."

Hotch nodded as the Agent raised his right eyebrow. "And now that we have fact, we can get to the hardest part."

The Agent nodded. "Actually making the arrest."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so I said this would be longer and more action-packed, but I fooled myself. It'll be in the next few chapters that we see the woods and the house again, and the final outcome...*gets chills and shudders from pent-up anticipation* Well, let's just say everything is foreshadowed.**

**Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review!**


	6. Six

**Monday, February 13th, 2012 4:25 PM  
A local hospital, North Carolina**

When Hotch re-entered the hospital room, he nearly ran right into JJ. The blonde agent's right hand was pressed to her mouth, her eyes red and tear-strained.

"JJ, what's wrong?" Hotch asked.

JJ shook her head. "You know, you read the journal. But hearing it from her... Hotch, how can people do that? Violate others as well as their trust? Amy cared about Stan before this madness. It's obvious she still does slightly, because she's just that kind of person. But...I don't know, Hotch."

Hotch sighed, wrapping his arm around JJ's shoulder and leading her to a chair, he sitting in the one across from it. "I know...I know this will be tough on everyone, especially Amy and Reid when we get him back. But we have to keep a clear head and not let our friendship get in the way. We need to keep a clear head to make this arrest. And from the journal, there may be multiple arrests."

"Well, I'm in," Morgan said, walking over.

"So are we," said a voice from down the hall.

Hotch, JJ, and Morgan turned: Rossi and Garcia had arrived.

"Garcia? You're...joining us?" Morgan asked, rather shocked.

But Garcia shook her head. "Not on the arrest. There is NO way I am going on that, and you know that. But I'm not going to sit around in Quantico waiting to hear from you guys about Reid's condition."

JJ smiled. "Good. I think you might want to meet Amy?"

Garcia nodded. "Where is she?"

"Right here," said a voice, and when they turned, the haggard Amy stood next to the doctor outside the door, clutching forms for release and her coat.

Hotch stood as the rhythmic sound of crutches faded away. "Amy, this here is-"

"Penelope Garcia," Garcia interrupted.

Amy nodded, her braced hand fingering the little locket she wore. "Thanks, by the way."

Garcia waved the gratitude off with her hand. "Aw, it was nothing."

Amy tried to smile, but bit her lip instead. Turning to face Hotch, she reached her left hand out with the release forms. "Here. You might want to sign those quickly so we can get to saving everyone and the final faceoff."

Hotch took the forms, but shook his head. "There will be no 'we', Amy. You're staying with Garcia."

Amy shook her head adamantly. "If you want to fail at finding the basically invisible Fields house, go ahead. But when Dr. Reid and everyone else are dead, don't come blaming me. You know very well it will take someone who's already been there to find the place, especially if they have an eidetic memory like I do. So I _have_ to come with you. Otherwise, you'll never find the place."

"It's getting dark," Hotch said, not bothering to argue. It was now safe to assume the child was always right.

"So?" Amy said, cocking her eyebrows. "My night vision has gotten better thanks to my last hike."

"Yeah, but ours hasn't," Morgan put in. Hotch nodded in agreement.

"So...bring flashlights? All I know is, with Stan, I have to expect the unexpected now. I don't know him anymore." Something in Amy's voice didn't sound right when she added that last sentence.

Hotch sighed. "Alright, you're right. Time is running out. We have to move as soon as possible." He turned to the waiting doctor, handed him the papers, and asked, "Are we free to leave?"

The doctor looked at the papers quickly, then nodded. "Yes, you can leave. Be careful."

Amy and Hotch nodded. "We will," they said in unison, then exchanged looks.

* * *

Amy led the way out of the hospital, past an empty chair placed haphazardly close to the corner and through the doors of the hospital. She took in the crisp night, hardly even shivering as the others did, her coat still in her arms. Realizing she must look insane, she slipped her coat on, but it made no difference. The cold was hardly noticeable. She hoped it had to do with spending so much time out in it and not possible nerve damage or an overdose of unnecessary pain-meds.

Hotch stopped next to her, followed by JJ and Morgan. "What do you suggest we do first?" Hotch asked Amy, but she hardly heard him. She was too busy thinking of the time she, Dom, and her mom first met Stan at Carraluzzi's, the local grocery store in Bethel...

* * *

_Amy walked down the aisle humming along with the song on the intercom. She was five, Dom seventeen, and this was part of their weekly routine: Monday night was grocery night, meaning they ate fast food before or after shopping. The little toys inside the Happy Meals or BK Kids Meals were...well, not really all that interesting unless they were the Beanie Babies or Madame Alexander dolls. Now THOSE were worth the greasy meal._

_Dom was helping Mom get a box of Pop Tarts down from the high shelf when he fell backwards, flailing his arms to try to regain balance. His attempts failed, and he landed on his hip. Amy jumped, startled by the booming sound her relatively-skinny brother had made. Instantly Mom and another man were by his side, helping him back to his feet, asking if he was alright._

_But if Dom was hurt, he didn't show it. He simply brushed himself off, rubbed his hip a bit, tossed the box of Pop Tarts into the cart, and turned to Mom to ask if there was anything else up there that they needed._

_But once Mom knew he was okay, she started talking to the man who had rushed over to help. Amy did a quick inspection of him. Tall, lean, old - mid- to late-forties, early fifties perhaps - with greying brown hair and nice brown eyes, average lips and nose, a pleasant, rich, deep voice - _perfect for singing, if I do think so myself_ - and when he smiles and laughs...you want to smile and laugh with him._

_Soon Dom had joined the conversation. This was the sign of approval: if Dom felt someone was worth talking to, it was time to cling to Mom's leg and get noticed so you'll just HAVE to join the conversation. So Amy walked nimbly over to Mom on her graceful five-year-old legs and wrapped her arms around Mom's leg, burying her face into the soft fabric of the pants._

_The man looked down and smiled. "Well, now who is this?" "Amy? Well, it's nice to meet you, Amy. I'm Stan." Stan bent down on his knees to meet Amy's eyes. This man wasn't too scary..._

_"Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Stan," Amy said politely, looking up at Mom for the approving smile. She was rewarded, and soon Amy and Stan were talking. Mom ended up exchanging business cards with him, and soon Amy was waving good-bye to her new friend, and Dom was smiling and laughing...smiling and laughing...the happy sounds fading slowly...just like Mom's voice had faded the instant Dom fell..._

* * *

"Amy. Amy. Amy?"

Amy blinked, jumping slightly. She took in her surroundings and breathed. "I'm sorry; you were saying?"

Hotch looked at Amy in confusion briefly, then blinked, asking, "Well, what should we do first?"

Amy's stomach growled quite suddenly. She blushed.

JJ jumped at the sound, then took out a small sandwich from a brown paper bag Garcia handed her. "Here. Have this for now. Let's not rush your stomach now, shall we?"

Amy nodded, nibbling the Nutella sandwich slowly, savoring the quality taste. It wasn't meatloaf, but it wasn't mush, either.

Hotch repeated, "Well, now that that's settled, what should we do now?"

Amy thought for a moment. "We have to go to where I came out."

Hotch nodded slowly, obviously trying to remember where that was. "You'll have to point out specifics, and we need to get-"

Amy nodded, cutting him off. "I understand. Let's get what you need first, then we travel."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and soon, the team and Amy were driving to the local police station, suiting up in bulletproof vests and gathering up the SWAT team Rossi and Morgan had requested before leaving for North Carolina. Amy quickly denied the vest Hotch was about to offer her.

"I...let's just say whatever happens to me happens. If I'm seen wearing one, he'll know specifically where to aim if he's armed. That, and he'll probably consider it a threat and get more mad quicker."

Hotch simply nodded, biting back how much he prefered her to wear it.

Finally, it was around 6:00, and they were close to the point where Amy had first emerged.

"Here it is," Amy said as Hotch slowed, pulling over.

Everyone got out of their vehicles, and Hotch radioed for the helicopter Amy had suggested follow them. Fifteen minutes later, Amy was humming various songs as she re-hiked her escape route.

A few minutes into her fourth song, Hotch caught up to her as she stopped to survey the area and catch her breath.

"What can we expect?" Hotch asked.

Amy's eyes narrowed, still growing accustomed to the darkness. "There will be anger. Lots of it. And when Stan gets mad and I'm involved...well, let's just say it can be a sight worth seeing and a spectacle worth hearing."

"Oh?"

Amy nodded. "Instead of arguing with me, he sings various exerts of songs that convey what he wants to say, editing words to better fit the context."

Hotch nodded. "Ah."

Amy nodded as well. "When one of us starts singing, you'll know exactly where we are. I don't know if he's decided to move them or not." She forced back a cringe as her voice quivered over the lie, just like the one back in the hospital.

JJ walked over. "What's this about singing?"

Amy quickly summarized what she had told Hotch, and before JJ could comment on it, began walking again, following the creek upstream, constantly hoping she still had time, constantly hoping she wasn't leaving anyone behind.


	7. Seven

**Author's Note:**

**Tee hee tee hee...I love where this is going! Well, it'll be interesting to see what my emotions are as I'm writing it, of course, but I still love where this is going. Such bonding, such...I'm not giving away what's happening next, no! What's the point of reading the story if I do?**

**Alright, thank you to those who read - even to those who don't have accounts and/or don't leave reviews. It's always lovely to have a fan...or more. Especially if you have more. ;-D**

* * *

**Monday, February 13th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalachians, United States**

Did Amy know where she was going? Of course. She knew she was heading to Stan's...place of residence. Did she know the route she was taking? Not very well. She was relying much too much on her eidetic memory for this, much to her distaste.

She knew that the creek held the key. The only reason it had taken her...however many days it took was because she had to stop and rest and possibly sleep and hide just in case Stan was close. She had to stop and rest and possibly hide just in case Stan was close a lot, and for varying amounts of time. She honestly didn't know how long it had taken her, but by the looks of things, it must have been a while.

Hotch had just told her it was close to midnight when she stopped quite suddenly. Something about the creek wasn't right. Did it really curve like that? If so, how had she crossed it? Did she...Amy closed her eyes and smiled. Of course she had crossed it. It nearly cost her the use of her legs because of it.

"Stand back," she said, backing up some. The creek wasn't too wide. If she had enough space, she could leap the distance, avoiding another mishap like before. Closing her eyes again, she took deep breaths to calm herself, casually substituting Stan's voice with her own as the memory of his teaching her how to leap played back through her mind.

_"Just concentrate, relax, and glide. That's it! You're doing it beautifully! Just get that back leg up a bit higher and keep the front leg a little straighter, but...yes yes yes! Amy, that was beautiful! So graceful, so perfect, so...stellar! Do you think you could do it again? No? Well, I won't pressure you to. Just remember that leaps like that will be featured in dances to come, so..."_

The memories stopped as she looked back at Hotch and JJ's shocked faces. Amy smiled, popping back up on her feet without the use of her hands. "All you have to do is cross, and then it gets harder. We're no longer following the creek, nor the road-that-will-be-coming-up-eventually, so this could take some time and concentration."

JJ nodded slowly. "And how are we supposed to cross?"

Amy frowned. She hadn't thought of that. "I take it you don't want to leap across, huh? Well..." she said, looking around. Then she spotted something: the remains of a plastic card table. "It's a shame this is stuck in the wilderness like this, but here. The tabletop's sturdy, and I think it's long enough to cover..." She walked over to the table, dragging it back to the creek where the BAU team and SWAT team were waiting, some dumbfounded. She turned the table, then laid it across the creek, smiling in satisfaction: It was a perfect fit.

"One at a time, please," she said, standing out of the way. "Let's not make it a race." Once Hotch and the rest of the team was across, Amy started walking again, this time, looking carefully at all her surroundings as she walked. She couldn't afford to make a wrong move now.

* * *

**Tuesday, February 14th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalachians, United States**

Reid sighed for what seemed like the millionth time since had arrived. He could have kept count, but he'd had more to worry about than how many times he wasted air.

For one thing, he had Amy's safety to worry about. He still didn't know where she was, nor did he know why he had pressured her to leave. Sure, he wanted them all out alive, but was telling her to leave the best choice? Her idea backed by his encouragement only had two endings, and while one looked pretty good, it wasn't likely to happen, considering the gun-power being amassed at both ends of the spectrum.

For another, he had the safety of his friends and colleagues. He knew that if he got out of this alive and one of them didn't, he couldn't go on. Not as an agent, not as a human being. However then there was Eloïse and Amy and eventually Mrs. Meyes, Cameron, and Mr. Bronsky if they all survived with him to think about. If he couldn't go on without Hotch, JJ, Morgan, Garcia, and Rossi, how would he bear letting them down by having to live without him? He knew they cared immensely for him - hell, Eloïse said yes and Amy blamed herself for his being there! - but would they die if he did?

And that was his last matter of worry: what would happen when he died? If he died, rather. He knew the team and Amy would try everything in their power to make sure he didn't die. They'd make sure no one died that didn't need nor deserve to die. Translation: Only Stan would die. That is, if they had to shoot, meaning he'd have to shoot first... Reid sighed again. No wonder he was sighing so much. With each sigh, his chances of survival seemed less and less.

Hours must have passed, for Stan suddenly came racing down the stairs of the basement after closing the door very carefully. A wicked smile was on his face, his revolver in his hand. Reid didn't like the looks of things.

Stan smiled, staring straight at the agent. "She's here."


	8. Eight

**Author's Note:**

**Finally...the chapter everyone has been waiting for since the beginning of the series! No, it isn't the end - this is FAR from over - but we are getting close.**

**Speaking of getting close to the end...I recently had a dream about this story...and I'd like to ask you all if it would be okay if I turned it into the fourth and final book. That book would be shorter than these and focus mostly on stuff about Amy (not to give away the plot I've concocted so carefully!), but I have an idea about the highlight of the story. If you don't want me to, say so - I've been meaning to edit that poll on my profile for months now! - and I'll end the series once this one is done...you know, let me get to the chapter and then I'll edit the poll and you can help me decide then! Does that sound fair? Okay? Good.**

**Now, again, I don't mean to quote ****_The Lion King_**** here, but be prepared!**

**Oh, and another note: Song names and artists used in this chapter will be listed at the end.**

* * *

**Tuesday, February 14th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalachians, United States**

Amy found herself absent-mindedly rolling her shoulders and rolling onto the balls of her feet then back onto her heels once they stopped in front of the house. At a confused and worried look from Morgan, she stilled herself, but her feet kept moving, flexing then attempting to rise onto her toes, almost falling over when she realized what she was doing out of nervous habit. It was something to do with Stan's presence, she tried to convince herself. He was always associated with dance, so she got ready to dance when near him...? Amy shook her head, breathing deeply as she concentrated on what she had to do.

Rossi tapped her shoulder. "Kid, you okay?"

Amy jumped when she turned, eyes wide. Breathing, she replied, "Sure, as okay as I can be right now. What do you need?"

Rossi sighed, kneeling down to make better eye contact with her. "Amy...is it too much to ask you to join us in there? You may be the convincing factor we need to get Stan where we need him and therefore send him to prison for all that he's done to you and many others."

Amy was tempted to instinctively narrow her eyes and refuse to help, but this was what was right and needed, and she had prepared herself for this final confrontation. She nodded, saying, "Alright, but I'm warning you: I don't know how many people he has working for him. I know there has to be at least one, but with the size of the place on the inside, I wouldn't be surprised if there were more. That, and...I don't know what condition he will be in, meaning I don't know if anyone's survived. When he's mad..." Amy shuddered at the understatement. "Let me rephrase that: When he's pissed, as I know he will be, he's careful and smart, but when I'm in the picture, he's also ruthless and quick to take action. He almost always gets what he wants. Believe me, I would know."

Rossi nodded. "Hotch warned me of that. And thanks. You're probably saving them by being with us." With that, he led her to Hotch and the others.

Hotch seemed reluctantly glad she was able and willing to help them, but when she said she'd like to go through the house alone, he grew frustrated.

"It's just that I...don't...really...know if he's moved them away from each other or is hiding somewhere away from them to lure any of us into a trap, so if anyone were to accompany me, they'd probably meet the same fate as Mr. Bronsky, Mrs. Meyes, Cameron, and Dr. Reid," Amy argued, her voice quivering in the beginning as she lied then covered it with fact.

JJ seemed to agree with her. "For everyone's safety, I agree. Just how will we know where you are?"

Amy smiled, and the following words she and Hotch said in unison: "The music."

Amy nodded. "You've heard our voices. You'll know where we are. The house has fantastic acoustics, so our voices will be projected even louder, and I'm pretty sure Stan and I will be practically belting out whatever notes we can. At least I know Stan will."

With that, Hotch divided everyone into teams of two, taking JJ with him and a few of the SWAT, pairing Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss together along with another select few of the SWAT, then letting the remaining SWAT divide themselves into groups. Amy led the way, but once the door was open, she was still, recalling how she supposed she got to the house and her first discovery Stan was the murderer...

* * *

_Amy laughed, then bit her lip as she and Stan left the movie theatre, a half-empty bucket of popcorn in Stan's right hand and his wallet and keys in his left. He smiled and laughed as if nothing was wrong with their closeness, almost as if he was savoring the time they were sharing together, almost as if it could be their last._

_Once in the familiar tan Camry, Amy stared at Stan's face and concentrated on the thoughts she'd been forcing back for the past six hours. _You're a murderer. With the way you've been acting around me, I'd say you love me, not hate me. These past eight years you've lived a lie just to be near me. I don't even know you anymore...

_"You were once so easy to read and cheer up. You've changed. I hope _I_ have nothing to do with the reason for that?" Stan said, his British accent coming through after keeping it hidden all afternoon...as usual._

_Amy shifted away from him, turning to face the passenger window. "I wouldn't know. You wouldn't happen to be hiding even more from me than that accent you so cleverly covered up for the past eight years now."_

_Stan sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "What a struggle that has been."_

_Amy's eyes narrowed as she glared at the paneling on the door, not willing to face him again. "You've lied to me," she whispered._

_Stan started to act as if he didn't hear what she said, but when he felt her glare, he sighed again. "So this change does have to do with me," he said, not really asking anymore. "Amy, this is all for you."_

_"For me?" Amy interrupted, her voice becoming shrill with anger. "You killed my family and friends - _your_ friends - just for me? What kind of a sick bastard does that make you?" Stan was about to interject, but she continued over him. "Oh, I know: It makes you a pedophile if you love me, and it makes you a cold-hearted murderer if you could care less about me."_

_Stan's face was suddenly stone as he pulled over onto a dirt road near a sign advertising hiking trails, turning around in the seat to face her once he'd turned on the overhead light. The beads of sweat were much more obvious now, the anger in his dark, expressive eyes threatening to explode, his lips pressed into a line. "Excuse me, young lady?" he said tersely, pulling the keys from the ignition._

_Amy repeated, "I said, it makes you a pedophile if you love me, and a cold-hearted, murderous bastard if you could care less."_

_Stan's hand was soon wrapped around hers, his thumb pressing down into her palm like they did in a book he got her to read, The Help. "First, watch your language, and second, I love you. Everything I did was out of love!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in volume as his words reflected his sudden flames of anger._

_Amy's own voice increased in volume and shrillness as she exclaimed, "So killing everyone that I know was supposed to be out of love? You've ruined my LIFE!"_

_"I did that for our own good! You know very well they would have objected to our romance-"_

_"_Our_ romance?! As if I could _love_ you for what you've done! As if I could even love you the way you do **me**!"_

_"Understand me this-" Stan shouted, but Amy interrupted._

_"If you really love me, prove it!"_

_She ended up regretting those words as Stan's lips forced themselves hungrily onto hers, his right hand pulling her head closer to his. Amy's eyes went wild as she pushed away from him as much as she could, but he simply pulled on her harder, remaining rigid and firm. Soon this kiss didn't seem to be enough, nor did the ones that followed. Amy found her jeans torn, the belt that hardly fit almost breaking in his frustration. He was on top of her as the car grew darker, his lips never seeming to leave hers for more than fifteen seconds so they could regain their breath and he could remove more of their clothes that seemed to get in his way. Amy's anger and frustration soon gave way to fear and pain, tears falling from her eyes as he raped her for the first time._

_It seemed like hours had passed when finally he sat up, still inside her, his features looking as if they belonged to someone younger. He carefully fixed her now-ruined shirt, leaving her jeans alone, then carefully redressed himself with clothes he had in his glove compartment (this was also the first time she saw his pistol and ammunition...why he needed two guns was a mystery to her). With a final kiss, he took a sip of something - everything was growing blurry as Amy slowly drifted off - then turned and smiled at her. The last thing she consciously remembered was his pleased smile turning into angered shock as she slapped it off his face. With that, the world faded black._

* * *

Amy hadn't realized she'd walked to her old room, nor had she realized she was completely alone. Stopping, she thought for a moment as to what she was doing, then practically ran to the basement door. She skidded to an abrupt stop, fearing what would happen if she opened that door. Maybe she could sneak out and run. She knew where she would be going this time, having travelled the route twice. No, she couldn't sneak out and run - she'd be giving up on those she cared about and had left, and that wasn't the kind of person she was. Stan had once joked that her caring, gentle, giving nature had put the "kind" in "mankind," but then he'd later have her fist in his jaw for repeating such comments (and she'd later have more of a love session than she wished for).

So, having made up her mind, she carefully reached for the doorknob as if it were a snake that could bite if handled the wrong way. She turned it slowly, tentatively, as if by opening the door she would set off a trap that would, who knows, cause the house to explode into flames. (Amy mentally scolded herself for that thought. _No more crime dramas for a while, young lady._) She pushed the door open as if she were entering a forbidden area, peering around the door slightly before mustering her strength and hurrying inside, closing the door behind her. She took a deep breath, and walked slowly down the stairs, turning the corner to the area out of sight of the door and trying to remain composed as she took in the scene that greeted her.

Against the far wall was a closed door she didn't quite remember (she didn't really remember this part of the basement, either, which was saying something), and to the right of it sat Cameron, Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Dr. Reid, all bound to prohibit escape. Standing four feet to the right of them and three feet forward, five feet away from Amy, stood Stan. He had let himself go, allowing a beard to have started to grow. His hair had greyed some since she last saw him, completing the physically old and haggard look he had about him. A white, long, billowy-sleeved shirt hung on his slender, muscular frame, untucked and wrinkled. It reminded her of the last recital she had been in, along with the tan riding-style pants and black boots. In his left hand was the locket he had given her when Reid had arrived; in his right, his revolver, the other gun she had learned about shortly after her arrival.

Stan smiled when he saw her, looking her up and down some before letting his eyes lock in on the brace on her wrist. "I hope I didn't cause that," he said, his British accent sounding as if it needed a good polishing after not being used for a long time.

"Indirectly," Amy said. "I was hit by a car on my way out."

Stan's eyebrows raised as Mrs. Meyes' eyes grew watery and Reid winced. "Hit by a car, you say?"

Amy nodded. "A taxi, more like. It turns out certain individuals were looking for me. Unfortunately, they nearly killed me in their excitement of having found me."

Reid's eyes widened as his jaw dropped. He started to mouth what he wanted to ask, then answered his own question and remained silent and still, observing the confrontation.

Amy knew Stan wasn't planning on leaving, and grew antsy, waiting for him to break out into song. "You aren't...angry?"

Stan chuckled. "Why should I be angry? You're here, aren't you?"

Amy was caught. That wasn't what she'd expected. "I mean, I figured you'd be pretty...well, pissed off that I left."

Stan shrugged. "I was...pretty unnerved that you had the audacity to leave, but I quelled that quickly enough, knowing that in time, you'd return to me, like you always do."

Amy felt trapped suddenly. Her plan had backfired! All of it rested on the expectation of his anger, and now that it seemed to be nonexistent, so seemed her plan. She knew there was only one thing to do.

"I...do hope you know that I _will not_ be staying," Amy said cautiously.

It must have worked, for Stan's smile vanished. "I know," he replied, his light, airy, calmness disappearing from his voice. With that, he closed his eyes, shook his head, and started to sing.

* * *

Hotch turned a corner to find a dead end. How big was this house? It certainly didn't seem this large from the outside!

"Clear," Hotch said, lowering his gun.

"Clear," JJ replied, returning from the room behind him. "Where could they be?"

Hotch shook his head, but stopped as a clear, angelic note rang through the house, followed by deeper notes, then higher notes...

"She's found them," Hotch said, and soon he and JJ were racing, guns raised, to the source of the hauntingly beautiful cry of help.

* * *

Their song had just ended as Hotch, JJ, Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss turned the corner, guns raised. Amy relaxed some, knowing that soon, after more singing and some spoken negotiation, this nightmare would finally come to an end.

Stan was the first to speak after their duet. "It's a pity it happens to be Valentine's Day. I had such wonderful plans for us today. But now, by the looks of things, we shall never get to them. After all, you _left_."

Amy had prepared for this. "You _left_ me no choice!" she mocked. "If you hadn't forced me to stay here with your unyielding love and allowed yourself to fulfill your unpleasant satisfactions, I'd never have left in the first place! Can't you understand that I'll never love you back the way you love me? _Especially_ after killing off everyone I know?"

Stan closed his eyes, shook his head, and returned to singing:

"Close my eyes, I'm trying to listen

Oh 'cuz it's been so long since I heard you speak

Send your love, cover over the distance

Between you and me

Oh, how long must I wait for my love?

'Cuz I need you,

Oh I need you

My heart is bursting and breaking apart!

Oh my love."

Amy returned in song:

"Please don't start that again -

Your love is just a game."

"Don't leave me this way.

I can't survive

Without your sweet love,

Oh baby, don't leave me this way."

"It's too late to apologize

It's too late.

Yeah it's too late to apologize

It's too late.

O-oh."

"My last year had come and gone,

I'm dying to let your love rain down on me."

"But I feel like I've never known love

I feel like I've never known love

I feel like I've never known lo-ove

Yeah, I feel like I've never known love

I feel like I've known love

I feel like I've never known

Lo-ove!"

"But I'd catch a grenade for you!"

"Yeah yeah!"

"Throw my hand on a blade for you!"

"Yeah yeah!"

"Jump in front of a train for you!"

"Yeah yeah!"

"Ooh-oh-oh-oh-ooh

I would go through all this pain

Take a bullet straight through my brain!

Yeah I would die for you baby,

But you won't do the same!"

Amy broke out of singing to shout, "Do the same? You're out of your mind!"

Stan closed his eyes in exasperation. "No, Amy, it's just a song! God dammit! IT FITS THE MOOD! And to be quite honest with you, it fits the strength of my love for you."

Amy felt sick laughter bubble from her mouth as she said, "Boy, you covered yourself there, Stan, because for a moment you had yourself moved from a bipolar pedophile to a narcissistic bastard!"

Stan's eyes widened with rage. "Don't you dare-"

"Dare what? Return the treatment I received?" Amy interrupted evenly.

"Don't even start, young lady!"

Amy laughed. "So then what am I to do?" She went back to singing:

"Time is dead and gone

Show must go on

It's time for our act

They all scream at me

They cannot see

This curtain hides me

An amazing gift

So quick and swift

'You were amazing'

By myself I can't

You start to chant

'Why are you not here?'

Grinning at me,

I lay on my knees

You want to hear me

Why can not you see?

We get up on stage

You jump to enrage

'Why are you not here?'

Why are you so near?

You want me to sing

I just can not bring-

I say 'You're not you'

What else can I do?

Singing my silent song of misery

This monster lies trapped in my own nightmare

You are a tyrant

I let out a plea

Why did you have to leave me all alone?

Bound to sing for them

A worthless monster

I never see them

For you despise them so

Lying so useless

You start to holler:

'HEY GET UP YOU WORTHLESS CIRCUS MONSTER-ER-ER!'"

Stan's eyes were wide and wild with rage. He raised his gun. "Don't make me."

Amy knew this was it. "Release them first." She gestured to Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, Cameron, and Reid. Amy took two small steps forward. "I said, release them."

Stan did not move.

Amy tried not to smile as she stepped back one step, causing Stan to force himself not to lunge forward and pull her back. "Release them."

Stan sighed. He called behind him in French, and a man opened the door, answering in French. Stan repeated his order, and Amy was shocked.

"Really?" she asked as the man sighed, cutting the ropes around the four with a switchblade then dropping it and walking forward after them, turning himself in. The sound of handcuffs being slipped on his wrists was almost like candy to Amy's ears, but she did not turn. She had to keep her attention on Stan to prevent him from shooting.

But something in his expression told her he wasn't giving up so easily. She had won part of her battle; the other part...she still had to work on it. Stan fiddled with the locket in his hand, tightening his grasp on it. Amy realized he really did love her in this moment, and her heart almost broke as she knew what she had to do.

One last time, she opened her mouth to sing:

"I give it all to you

I offer up my soul,

It's already over

Already over!

No-o-ow!"

Their voices fused as one when Stan joined in: "It's already over

No-o-ow!

I give it all to you

Let it go one night

Reaching as I fall

I know its already over now!

Nothing left to lose-"

Stan dropped out as Amy continued: "Nothing you would get!

I know it's already over-"

Stan's fury suddenly showed itself, drowning out her voice as he finished with: "Already OVER!"

With that, the gunshots rang out.

* * *

Twenty-four shots were fired.

Seven of those shots belonged to Stan.

Amy had collapsed to the ground, seventeen bullets inside of her tiny body.

Six of Stan's bullets had hit their mark, Amy, while one had strayed to Reid's left shoulder.

The rest were in the wall or in Stan himself.

The only people who fired their weapons were Stan, Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi.

* * *

**Alright, as promised, here are the songs used:**

**"Must I Wait" by Phil Wickham**

**"All You Need Is Love" (or something like that) from _Moulin Rouge_**

**"Apologize" by OneRepublic**

**"Black Roses Red" by Alana Grace**

**"Grenade" by Bruno Mars**

**"Circus Monster" sung by Vokaloid Megurine Luka**

**"Already Over" by Red**

***sigh* Wow. That felt so good to write, even though I got dizzy like I always do when I'm writing something as evil as this! Hope you all enjoy, and don't worry - again, this is not the end for this story and definitely NOT for Amy.**

**1/30/2013-Wait - I just realized how LONG this chapter is! Geeze! Sorry! So much had to come out in one chapter that I went way over my usual minimum of 1000 or so words!**

**3/16/2013-I'm in the process of rereading my series so I can figure out how I'm going to continue, and I realized I had a lot of mistakes in this chapter from my haste in writing it. Whoops! Sorry! I fixed them, so yeah...*sigh* Anyone reading _Red Rain_ yet? It's a side-story to this series. I know. I can't let this go! It's too much fun!**


	9. Nine

**Author's Note:**

**...there shall be no note to this. I cannot apologize for what I did last chapter. What's done is done, and what is left has yet to come...**

* * *

Pain. That's all she remembered, that's all she knew. Pain. It was like she was being stabbed with hot pokers...no, worse. It was like pouring hot tar on one's body...no, she couldn't really describe that, since she never felt it before. But all she knew was the pain, the unceasing pain, the burning pain. On top of that was a feeling more unconfortable: numb. She felt as if someone was trying to take away her pain, but instead took away all feeling instead, but the pain kept on burning through her.

Images flooded forth from her last conscious moments: Stan's smile, his finger finally squeezing the trigger, his eyes closing as he was blown back, Mrs. Meyes' hand as she ran over to her, the faces of the agents she knew she would learn to trust if given the chance. Her other senses suddenly pressed into her unconscious state: the sounds of Stan's voice mixing into one with her own, gunshots, like the loud banging a two-year-old might do with his parents' pots and pans if given them, rang through the memories, almost blocking out the screams and shouts. Twenty-two...twenty...three... Twenty-four in total she counted over and over again before they repeated again. Twenty four then silence. Feelings and emotions besides pain and numbness came forth: agony, sure, but fear, love, hatred, and above all, calm. She was calm.

Until the memories came back.

One...

There was her mother's face as Stan, this fact then unknown to her, dragged her away to the back of the train.

Two...

There went Domonick's smiling face and laughter.

Three...

There went Rachel and Grace, the two that seemed so much more like mother and sister than sister-in-law and niece.

Four...

There went her Uncles Fred and Lars, along with Aunt Clara and Laura, Drew, Ben, and Damien.

Five...

There went Annabelle, Arthur, Sara, and Shelly, back under the tires of that car.

Six...

There went Rebecca under the knife she never knew Stan could use.

Seven...

There went Mr. Fallow and all her other teachers she had at BMS that Stan hadn't abducted.

Eight...

There went little Natalie, the sixth grader who was so enthusiastic about learning how to play the piano under Amy's careful guidance.

Nine...

There went the rest of the students in school, the one day there was near-perfect attendance, minus two students.

Ten...

There went her friends at the dance studio.

Eleven...

There went everyone in other states and countries that she knew.

Twelve...

There went everyone else on that train that killed her mother.

Thirteen...

There went Stan, the one she knew and trusted and loved as a father, not the monster he had become.

Fourteen...

There went the new Stan, not that she cared much, but since he was still Stan Fields whom she'd known for just about all her life, she had to care.

Fifteen...

There went anyone else who happened to have died that Amy didn't know of.

Sixteen...

There she went, although she really didn't know it nor believe it to be true.

Seventeen...

There went her happiness.

Eighteen...

There went her virginity.

Nineteen...

There went the childish innocence she had not possessed since the age of seven.

Twenty...

There went the reasons to live.

Twenty one...

There went the reasons to care.

Twenty two...

There went insanity.

Twenty three...

There went reality.

Twenty four...

There went her unconsciousness.

* * *

**Tuesday, February 14th, 2012 4:03 PM  
Local hospital, North Carolina**

The beeping of monitors had gotten unbearable for Reid and Hotch, who were now sitting in front of the room next to the police stationed there just in case. Morgan and Prentiss had gone to go get decent coffee and food; Rossi was talking to the doctor again, shocked at her condition like everyone else.

There was the rhythmic clatter of crutches again as the Agent came their way. He looked hopeful, expecting the worst but praying for the best.

Hotch stood to greet him. "Hello, sir."

The Agent nodded, eyes closed. "Hello, Agent Hotchner. This must be Dr. Reid."

Reid stood, shocked by the Agent's appearance. "Yes, hello. But you're..."

"Not what you have been forced to believe, I know. I understand how...confused you are. Naturally, you will ask questions, but what is most important is not my welfare, but that of yours and Amy's. I see that bullet wound of yours wasn't too serious?"

Reid looked at his shoulder, which had been hastily cleaned, examined, and bandaged by EMTs at the scene, being re-cleaned and bandaged as well as fully examined once he arrived at the hospital. However, the injury wasn't as serious as it looked thankfully - he still had full use of his arm, as the bullet had not done much more than graze his arm, removing skin and not nerves, muscle, and bone - and therefore the doctors had let him go as he wished. "Yeah, it's not that bad, actually. Thanks for asking...sir?"

The Agent nodded. "I am glad to know there will be no permanent damage. Not all are as lucky." He looked down at his leg as he said his last line.

_Not all are as lucky_...It clicked. Eyes wide, Reid asked, "You...that's...it's permanent?"

The Agent refused to make eye contact with Reid, who was, in fact, older than him. "It's not...as bad as it seems, but it's still causing me to retire."

Hotch's own eyes widened. "Retiring already? But you're so...young!"

"I understand your being so shocked, but it saved my life once. I will not be hoping for it to do that again. I may stay in the CIA, switching occupations from active agent to something where I can actually sit down, but I can no longer keep up with it anymore."

Hotch nodded as Rossi approached from the conversation with the doctor. He was pale, wiping nervous sweat from his forehead. When the Agent turned around and nodded, Rossi did a double take, rubbing his eyes, then shrugging it off.

"Do you get it now?" Reid asked, knowing how unbelievable Amy's condition was.

Rossi sighed. "Barely. I'm hoping it's because I'm refusing to believe it."

Hotch nodded sadly. "So young."

Reid nodded in solemn agreement. "No longer able to dance, nor have children."

The Agent's eyes widened, but he remained silent.

Rossi shook his head. "Unbelievable."

The Agent began to collapse in shock. Rossi and Hotch quickly caught him along with the help of a few passing doctors, and helped him to the chair Hotch had vacated. He breathed deeply and raggedly, leaning forward on his crutches, eyes wide, shaking his head and muttering to himself in disbelief. "No," he whispered. "No, she, she's worked so hard, on, dance. It can't be...no." The tears dripped from his eyes, and something in his expression - it was so small it would take a keen, trained eye to notice - showed the slightest bit of relief, as it these tears were what he'd been holding back for a year and change.

Suddenly there was screaming coming from inside Amy's room. Reid jumped at the sound, as did Hotch.

"NO! Please, I'm begging you! STOP! Please, no! No, stop, please! I beg you! NO! NO MORE!"

The doctor walked over quickly, confused. "What's going on?"

Hotch had no idea. "She's alone in there - no agent of mine is inside."

Reid quite suddenly face-palmed himself. "Ugh! Why didn't I think of it sooner? We have to wake her up somehow. It'll calm her down. Otherwise, this won't stop."

The Agent closed his eyes in realization that Reid was right. "Of course. The nightmares."

Both Hotch and the doctor instantly raced inside the room, Hotch leaning up against the bed and the doctor over to the various beeping monitors as Amy's heart raced as she screamed for something unknown to end. Finally, Reid walked in and motioned for Hotch to step aside.

He looked to the doctor for permission, then took Amy's hand, shaking and squeezing gently. "Amy, Amy!"

The young girl woke almost instantly, frightened, but screamed out in pain when she jumped forward some.

* * *

Reid was sitting next to her, not Stan. She was surrounded by beeping monitors and other medical equipment. There were IVs in her arm, not knives. She was alive and safe in the hospital room, with Hotch, Reid, and the doctor standing around her. Her heart calmed, calming the fire that raged through her chest and stomach. Her ragged, quick breathing slowed and calmed, as did the monitors around her. She closed her eyes, taking in the feelings that continued from her dream into real life.

"What's...going...on? What happened?" she asked between breaths. Each word was soft, whispery, and spoken in such a way she hardly felt them coming out (thankfully).

Reid's bottom lip curled in as he looked at her hand which he so carefully held. Hotch pushed a chair underneath him, and the young agent sat. "Amy, how much do you want to know?"

"Everything," she answered quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes closed tightly, a few tears dripping out from the sharp pain.

Reid continued to avoid meeting her eyes, his lips quivering. Finally, he spoke. "Amy...based on what you remember, a lot happened. But the important things are these: You're alive. Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, Cameron, they're all alive, too. Stan...Stan isn't."

Amy nodded, taking this in. "Okay, and?"

Reid bit his lip, his eyes creasing up as he bit back tears. His eyes met hers, and she knew something serious had happened. "Amy...I'm going to say this and get it over with: You're paralyzed from the waist down. That means no more dancing, no more walking, no more. Other than that, they were successful in extracting all twelve bullets from your body, meaning you're going to live. Unfortuantely, you can't pass the gift of life down any farther."

Amy's face was indescribable. She was shocked, confused, angry, sad, but also relieved for some reason. "No...no dancing? No kids? No...nothing?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say nothing, but you've been limited now in what you can and cannot do."

Amy nodded. "Oh."

It was such a fragile, broken sound that Hotch excused himself from the room, the doctor buried himself in his work, and Reid finally let the tears flow. Amy herself joined him painfully, each sob creating fire in her lungs. Finally she leaned her head back and grew silent, only allowing tears to flow. Tears were painless. Crying was not.

The police officer outside opened the door, and soon Rossi walked in, letting in Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron.

Mrs. Meyes was at her side in an instant, wrapping her arms gently around Amy's head, crying and saying how glad she was they were all alive, wiping away Amy's tears as well as her own, apologizing for the loss of the use of her legs over and over, then letting Mr. Bronsky hug her gently and tell her how glad he was she was alive and so on and so forth. Cameron hung back some, then came over and breathed deeply before kissing her forehead.

"That's for everything you've ever done for me, this included," he said, a single tear dripping from his cheek, a few more forming in his eyes. With that he left the room quickly before Amy could say anything more, followed by his father and soon, Mrs. Meyes.

Reid smiled sadly. "I guess we'll just wait here for anyone else to come in and say hi?"

Amy tried to suppress a painful laugh, but it didn't work. The laughter came out happily, and soon, Reid was joining her, knowing just how happy she would be very soon.

* * *

**Okay, stupid, cheesy ending to this chapter, I know, but I need to move on to the next chapter somehow! Yes, there is so much more to know! Reid has someone to introduce to, well, everyone, remember? And I have some tiny, insignificant details that add more cheesiness to this grim story.**

**Hope you enjoy, and please review!**


	10. Ten

**Author's Note:**

**Expect more tears here, so grab Kleenex or some other kind of tissue or whatever you'll be wiping your eyes with here, even though these should be happy tears. Now, if my Internet will continue to work, I shall add this chapter before going to bed...or just add the chapter then stay up even later...who knows...**

* * *

**Wednesday, February 15th, 2012 11:27 AM  
Local hospital, North Carolina**

Amy waited patiently in her hospital bed, as usual. Hotch had left after apologizing for what had to be the millionth time - not that she was counting or anything - and Prentiss had apologized for his constant apologies. The two brunettes then talked with the doctor, addressing the healing of certain injuries and the possibility of being released in the near future. JJ had taken the doctor's place after it was decided that Amy's release would rely on her healing, and the two agents had left, laughing. Now Amy was waiting on Reid and the friend he said he wanted her to meet. She was excited that, after what had happened, he had something to go back to, but something about returning to their normal lives eventually hurt her. Maybe it was the fact that she had nothing to return _to_, since Stan destroyed everything including his most prized part of her: her ability to dance. Maybe it was the fact that she was finally able to be up-front with her eidetic memory, meaning she could enroll in college now like Reid had. That was too much for her, she felt, but it was still a possibility. Or maybe it was the fear that she'd never be able to enjoy life the way she had before, with all of those she had known and loved. Whatever it was, it was troubling her.

There was a knock at the door as Amy was listening to a Japanese song Rebecca had gotten her hooked on that always cheered her up. Amy looked up, pulling out an earbud as Reid walked in with a young woman behind him.

"Hello!" he said cheerfully.

Amy smiled. "Hey, Dr. Reid." She carefully tried not to eye the woman who had followed him in.

"It's Spencer, remember?"

Amy sighed. "Right. Spencer. It'll be a bit. I'm so used to seeing and hearing and thinking Dr. Reid."

Reid smiled as he walked closer, taking the woman's hand. "It's alright. Take your time. However, Amy, this is Eloïse. She's my fiancé."

Amy's eyes widened, her mouth open slightly. "Fiancé?"

Eloïse laughed, her brown curls bouncing. "Yep! Spencer's been talking about you non-stop since I got here! I just hope he's not wrong...but then again, Spencer's never wrong."

Amy smiled slightly, blushing. "Well, I'm sure you heard quite a bit of flattery. People tend to exaggerate about me."

Eloïse laughed again. Amy was liking the way those curls bounced and her dimples showed. "Well, so far what he's said is true!"

Amy blushed deeper as Reid put his arm around Eloise's waist.

"Well, I have another friend for you to meet," Reid said, but his smile only widened as Amy's shrank into a puzzled frown. "Come on in!"

The rhythmic sound of a man on crutches came towards the room from down the hall, and slowly, the anticipation built as Hotch (who had decided to replace the officer on duty outside Amy's door) allowed in a man whom Amy almost didn't recognize.

"Amy," Reid said, his smile brightening as Amy's confusion turned into tearful shock and recognition. "I think you already know him, but this is now-retired CIA Agent Domonick Nickhoales."

Amy's braced hand flew to her mouth. "Dom..." she breathed.

The Agent smiled, tears falling from his own brown eyes. "Amy."

"Dom!" she exclaimed, her arms flying into the air despite the pain it caused her as her brother made his way over to her. "Oh, Dom! I thought-"

"It was necessary for you to believe I was dead in order to save the both of us. If you knew I was alive, Stan might have found out, and he would have killed us both," Domonick said, sitting in the chair Reid had moved directly next to the bed, taking her hands.

"But he shot you!"

Domonick nodded. "He missed, luckily. I escaped with only a bullet in my leg and another had scraped between my arm and chest. The fabrication was good enough, but I'm surprised the, uh, FBI over here didn't see through it." Domonick winked at Reid as he said the last line, raising his voice so Hotch could hear. Laughter from outside settled it.

Reid smiled, shaking his head. "Well, it nearly cost you your leg. I mean, when I was shot I was lucky I regained the use of it after being on crutches for so long."

"True," said Morgan, who had just walked in holding a box of Munchkins followed by a nurse carrying lunch for Amy.

"Well, Amy, I see you have quite a few visitors! Family and friends, I presume? Or just more agents?"

"Both," Amy said with a smile as the nurse began taking her blood pressure. "This is my brother, Dom, whom I only just found out was still alive. This is Eloïse, whom I've only just met, and the rest are the usual FBI agents, but friends nonetheless."

The nurse smiled as she exited the room. "Well that's lovely. I'll be back soon."

The instant she left, Amy frowned. "I really didn't have the heart to tell her I've lost my appetite...ooooh! Jello!"

Domonick, Reid, Morgan, Eloïse, and Hotch laughed as Hotch, Prentiss, and JJ re-entered the room. "That's my sister!" Domonick exclaimed.

Amy beamed, holding the Jello cup and a spoon. With everyone she now cared about around her, she felt complete again, the pain disappearing, too. This was a moment for which she was glad she had an eidetic memory. Nothing could capture the sight better.

Soon Reid and Domonick were discussing rooming arrangements (the two had become very close friends in a matter of hours, and were already thinking about how much it would mean to Amy especially if the siblings lived close by Reid and Eloïse) as well as what was going to happen in the days to come considering Amy's health and belongings in the house in the woods (which Amy was almost perfectly fine with burning until she remembered how expensive everything there was and what she still actually liked and so on). Eloïse and Amy were discussing books and fashion (nice, a _girl_ that understood her ideas on style and reading!) when Hotch stepped out of the room and returned with a pretty brunette that looked quite a bit like Amy but older.

She was in her mid to late twenties, about 5'8", petite, and smiling. Her brown eyes were nice and round, her nose angled slightly and pointed a smidge. She wore a dark grey skirt suit with a silky magenta tank top underneath, black stiletto heels, and minimal make-up besides eyeliner, mascara, faint lipstick, and soft magenta eyeshadow. Her ears were pierced, sure, with little silver treble clefs hanging off of them, along with a necklace with what looked like the bass clef or something similar and a simple silver charm bracelet with various music notes, clefs, miniature instruments, and a few red and pink hearts. If this woman didn't love music, Amy didn't know what to think.

Hotch let the woman speak. "Thank you. Hi, my name is Danielle Hunt, and I'd like to conduct an interview with little miss Amy here and a Dr. Spencer Reid for the Bethel Beacon, Danbury News Times, and a few other Connecticut papers as well as possibly the New York Times, if my boss there wants me to as well, meaning I have to do more writing and waiting and so much more boring stuff that takes me about two weeks to get done if sufficiently motivated."

Amy looked to Reid and Domonick, then looked back at Danielle almost instantly, her face turning bright red. Domonick was staring at the reporter with such a look Amy felt his eyes might bore holes into her skin if she wasn't careful.

Domonick shook his head quite suddenly, blinking. "Well, if my sister wants to, then sure, why not? What about you, Spencer?"

Reid shrugged. "Sure, why not? What harm could it do?"

Amy met the eight pairs of eyes suddenly trained on her individually before nodding. "Okay, yeah, sure. I mean, it'll be in Bethel, so yeah."

Danielle nodded, smiling. "Alright, thank you so much! You have no idea how much I need these articles - I'm in such a need for something actually interesting that isn't way out of 'my league,' as my boss says most of my ideas are. When can we begin? I can come back tomorrow, I can start now, if you really wanted, but it's kind of late, but that really means nothing right now. Whenever you are ready, we can begin."

Reid looked at Amy, who was looking at Domonick's face as he stared at Danielle with this look that Amy hadn't seen since he first met Rachel and when they first had Grace. It was his analysing look, Amy had finally determined, and so far, he seemed pleased with what he was seeing.

Danielle shifted under everyone's gaze. "So, when should I return? And, if it's possible, can I get smaller interviews with all of you? I mean, since you're here, you have to be connected somehow, so I figured that I might as well try to paint a full picture and possibly get more free reign over these articles if what I get is good enough for my boss." She shifted again nervously, edging closer to the door as Amy looked away, noting the reporter's discomfort.

Reid looked back at Amy. "Whenever you're ready, Am."

Amy nodded. "I was afraid you'd say that. I'm probably not going anywhere for a long time now, so whenever you're ready, actually, would probably be a better idea."

Danielle looked almost relieved while still nervous to have so many eyes on her. "Well...we could do a little now if you're up to it...I've got fifteen minutes before I have to leave for a meeting I really don't want to go to, then I could come back sometime tomorrow to finish up one interview, then start writing the questions for other interviews - I won't be writing too many more, maybe one or two per paper? - so that way I'll have some different material to use for the unique articles. The Times paper will have to have fresh information from fresh questions since it's the most-read paper, so that I'll save for last..." She started to do some calculations in the air with her fingers, then grabbed a little red spiral notebook from her purse and started jotting some things down. After a minute she cut herself off, clicking her pen slowly and looking back up, her face bright red. "I just started rambling, didn't I?"

Amy made an iffy sign. "More or less."

Danielle closed her eyes and sighed. "Great. I am so sorry about that. I'd probably better get some things straightened out first, like actually getting permission to _write _the articles, then come back and worry about questions and information and all that stuff."

Amy's eyes widened. "Wait - you haven't even gotten permission to _write_ the articles?"

Danielle sighed again, her voice becoming strained as she pressed her hand to her forehead as if in stress. "No, I was hoping that my boss would like the idea more if I had some information already gathered about the case and names of those I'm interviewing. I need this so much...I've been following this case since the start last year...I lost my fiancé in the bombing, you see, so my bosses have been on the brink of firing me because I can't get a decent, well, _anything_ lately, but because of my loss they're afraid I'll be suiciding if they do, and they're probably right. This reporter job is my landline, my one last hope of getting back to normal. If I lose it, well, it's almost like getting kicked in the face, because I've known all along that those silly awards I won in high school didn't mean I was a good writer..." She shook her head, opening her purse and taking out a prescription bottle and doing mental math before tossing two of the pills in her mouth, washing them down with the water bottle she pulled out next. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "So yeah. I'd at least like to get those that are interested in being interviewed for various article possibilities so I have _something_ to present tonight at the meeting."

Amy nodded. "Well, mine's easy, and so's Spencer's, so you've got two.

Danielle nodded, scribbling their names in her notebook.

Hotch gave his name, followed by Prentiss, then JJ, then Morgan, then Rossi, then Eloïse, then Garcia (who had only just arrived to hear the last part of Danielle's depressive speech).

Danielle was biting her lip when she shyly addressed Domonick. "And are you interested, sir?"

Domonick had been scrutinizing her for so long that his smile took both Danielle _and_ Amy off-guard. "Yes. The name's Domonick Nickhoales."

Danielle started writing his name, saying it as she wrote it, then stopped, the pen slipping on the page. She repeated the name to herself, then looked up at him, then at Amy, then back at him, then at her notebook, then back at him, then back at Amy.

Domonick sighed. "Yes, I'm alive."

Danielle shook her head. "No, I can see that one - I may have blonde highlights and been born strawberry blonde but I am most definitely not stupid - but why do I feel like I know you? What year did you graduate?"

"2004, Bethel High."

Danielle's shocked look turned into one of recognition. "Domonick Nickhoales...Danielle Murphy. I started taking my fiancé's last name after he died even though we never really made it official. But we graduated together, and you were always in my math and history classes."

Domonick's expression matched hers. "Yeah, you're right! No wonder you looked so familiar! You were...what's-his-name's girlfriend at one point...oh, what was his name? Amy, do you remember who he was? I know you were little, but do you remember? He was over a lot..."

Amy's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Russian?"

Domonick nodded. "Yeah, he was Russian...oh this is going to bother me until I get it right..."

Amy snapped, eyes opening. "Pietr Garder?"

Danielle and Domonick's eyes both lit up. "Yeah! That was the kid!"

Danielle laughed. "Gosh, I'd forgotten all about Pietr! And yeah, at first he was a pretty nice guy. Until, of course, he decided he wanted to get serious and so much more..." Danielle and Amy both shivered, then Danielle checked her watch and bit her lip. "Alright, I will get this through my bosses even if these end up being my last articles. It was nice meeting you all, and I hope to be able to work with you soon enough...and that actually sounded worse than I intended, but when one plays with words for a living, you get used to that kind of stuff." With that, the reporter left, a slight spring in her step as she walked out the door and down the hall, her black heels clacking on the floor.

Amy sighed, then fell back on the hospital bed. She regretted that decision instantly. "Bad...move," she whispered between sharp intakes of breath.

Domonick turned around almost instantly, forgetting about his own leg in the process, and soon he was laughing and crying at the same time as he sat back down, then started massaging the area around his wound. "You okay, Amy?"

She gave a weak thumbs-up, then said weakly, her voice higher-pitched, "You don't look so good yourself."

Domonick sighed. "Moved too fast. As usual in the Nickhoales-Fernand family, depending on what form you look at."

Hotch muttered, "Fernand, Nickhoales, Fields, Hotchner even."

Both Amy and Domonick's heads were directly facing him, their ears perking up.

"What was that last one?"

Hotch sighed. "Amanda was technically my daughter."

Amy nodded slowly. "Got it."

Domonick shook his head. "No, I meant the one before that. Did you actually say Fields?"

Hotch sighed again. "Yes, yes I did."

Amy put her braced hand on top of Domonick's. "Dom, technically speaking, it was arranged so _he_ became my legal guardian, but anyone could argue that _he_ felt as if I was _his_ wife."

Eloïse shivered. "This all still gives me the creeps. I don't know how any of you can bear knowing all of this rests on one little girl's shoulders."

Domonick smiled. "Well, it isn't just on hers. It's on all of ours in some way, shape, or form."

Reid nodded, as did Hotch, JJ, Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, and Garcia.

"We share this burden," Reid agreed.

"Together," Garcia added, finally speaking.

Amy waved slightly to acknowledge her equally if not more tech-savvy friend. Garcia waved back, then handed her a small, wrapped package.

"I figured that I would get this replaced," she said.

Amy carefully tore off the wrapping paper to reveal...

Dom's eyebrows raised. "Nice score, Am!"

Garcia laughed. "I took the privilege of sharing all the info I thought you needed from your old iPod to this one after seeing just how much you had stored on that one. I figured that if this doesn't replace it, it'll be adding to the memory you have already, so it'll all work out in the end, I hope."

Amy smiled. "Thanks, Garcia. I'm glad I got another one. I've been meaning to get some new songs that I've been thinking about a lot lately."

Domonick placed his hand on her leg, then removed it realizing how little Amy liked being touched anymore. "Well, I think I do know what some of these songs are, if not all of them."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Name a few."

Domonick smiled. "Well, for one thing, I'm going to say the entire Les Mis soundtrack, which you already have."

"Correct," Amy said with a smile.

"I also am going to say that there's some songs you looked up recently that reminded you of people that you want to put on there."

"Correct."

"And I'm sure you'll be looking to see if you've missed anything new from your favorite artists."

Amy frowned. "Correct. Now what's the fun in surprising you with my new playlists?"

Domonick laughed. "No, you'll still find ways to surprise me with your playlists! You always find the smallest details to select and put songs together like that."

Amy smiled, then yawned. "Yep!"

Everyone else around her started to yawn. Soon after, the intercom stated that visiting hours were ending in half an hour. Everyone started stretching and gathering their things, Domonick hopping over to his crutches, which had been placed by the door. Reid and Eloïse were the last to leave, helping Domonick get settled on the couch so the siblings could be together again.

Amy smiled as the lights were turned off. "Today was full of surprises for everyone."

She sensed Domonick smiling. "Agreed. It was nice seeing Danielle again after so many years."

Amy rolled her eyes, giggling then grimacing. "Yeah, I'm sure it was just _nice_."

Domonick laughed, and Amy knew he was blushing. "Good-night, Am."

"Good-night, Dom."

"Sweet dreams."

"I love you."

"I love you too, sis."

With that, Amy fell into a peaceful sleep for the first time in over a year.

* * *

**It can be over if you want, but I'm not so sure I'm liking leaving off like this. I have too many ideas left.**

**I know, pieces of this chapter were pretty cheesy, but I mean really: you can't have wine without cheese.**

**Alright, thanks for reading again. Hope you enjoy! And, as always, please review!**


	11. Eleven

**Author's Note:**

**Stupid Internet wasn't working right for the past few weeks, I've had rehearsal for An Evening of Monologues at my school and now that that's done I'm adding Children's Theatre (I'm Cinderella!), **** so now I am finally free to write!**

**Recently (well, sort of recently), I added a new story. It's more of a side-story of this with newer characters while still keeping Amy and Eloïse and Dom and Reid and the Meyes family (yes, I said family) and so on. That story may overlap into this one a little more, but yeah...the other story's entitled Red Rain, in case you were interested. I only have one chapter so far, but that's okay for now.**

**Anyways, I'm afraid to tell everyone that this is close to the last chapter of Wounded not including the epilogue. I know, how sad. However, this is not the end. There WILL be a fourth book, and you can only guess what that one will be about. No, it will not be boring...not entirely, at least. So yes, my fellow readers, I shall be ending this in something like three chapters, starting with this one...which is starting now.**

**Okay, one last note before I begin: I've tried not to swear much throughout this series...but that's going to change a tad bit. You were warned.**

* * *

**Thursday, February 16th, 2012 8:45 AM  
Local hospital, North Carolina**

Amy woke with a smile, then grimaced as waves of pain radiated through her stomach and ribs. Her hands rushed to her stomach as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping out of her eyelids. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in the hospital at all. She was back in Stan's room...but how was that possible? Stan couldn't be on top of her; he was dead! She knew this had to be a hallucination of sorts, but it was so realistic...she could feel Stan's every move as his body simply crushed against hers after a while...no, this couldn't be happening. She had avoided nightmares and gotten a night's worth of sleep for the first time in a year and two months, but now they came back in the day? No, this couldn't be happening. she refused to believe it.

Amy didn't realize she was screaming and thrashing and pulling at her hair until Dom - who woke almost instantly - came over and shoved his hand in hers and squeezed, releasing after three seconds. Her eyes flashed open, her screams cut off completely as she became still. Her breathing returned to normal, the beeping monitors she was hooked up to calming down as her heart did. She took a heavy deep breath and met Dom's worried eyes.

"What happened?" Dom wanted to know.

But Amy didn't have answers. "I don't know," she stated. "I slept through the night perfectly fine, but then I woke up and was in so much pain...then I was with Stan. He was...he was on top of me again...I..." Her voice died away as she struggled to put together sentences in her fear while still being rather tired from sleeping well for once...and having unsuccessful painkillers still swirling in her head.

Dom nodded. "I understand. You...were awake?"

Amy nodded, then gasped as it happened again. She started screaming for it to stop, finally drawing the attention of several doctors and nurses as well as the police officer outside. Dom tried explaining, but he didn't know enough about what was going on. The doctors wished to have some tests done as it could be a mental disorder.

Amy nodded weakly, submitting.

Not fifteen minutes later did it happen again, but differently. Stan wasn't on top of her, but next to her, glaring at her slightly, pointing his gun at her. Amy screamed again, shouting at the hallucination to put the gun down, taunting him with the knowledge he would never shoot her - bullshit - and would never hurt her when finally the doctors got her to calm down as a nurse brought in breakfast. Amy stared at her plate, realizing this was definitely the time Stan would have made breakfast. The first one was when Stan would have popped his head in her room to let her know he was up then to simply spend time with her. When the second one came, it was when he would have left with her in tow, heading to the dining room and kitchen.

"I think I figured out the timing of these...hallucinations," she whispered, forcing some of the hardly recognizable food into her mouth afterward.

"Oh?" said one of the doctors.

Amy nodded slowly. "I've been on a schedule. They follow the schedule. At least these first three have. Stan wakes up and spends time with me, we leave to go to the dining room, Stan presents whatever's for breakfast that morning. After we finish eating, we go to 'rest' for maybe fifteen minutes, then a 'love session,' then rest, then dance, then rest, then music, then lunch, then rest, then music again, then dance, then rest, then dinner, then he spends time with me, then he goes to bed."

The doctors exchanged mixed glances. "If that's the case," said the doctor that had first spoken to her, "then you've got PTSD. Times of day would trigger...some kind of painful memory, and..." He trailed off, not really sure where he was going.

Amy's original doctor walked in quickly, still putting on his white coat. "What's the matter? Something happen while I was gone?"

The doctors and nurses around Amy nodded, muttering slightly.

"Poor thing."

"Hope she gets better."

"Ain't she a smart one, figurin' out all this madness before tests can be done."

"Thank goodness he arrived!"

"Let her tell him."

"One at a time, please," her doctor said, then turned to Dom. "Hi, I'm Dr. Stone. You must be her brother, Domonick."

Dom nodded. "Alive and, well, hardly standing."

Dr. Stone nodded. "I can see that. I take it you have been informed on Amy's conditions?"

"Paralysis, sterility, sprained wrist, gunshot wounds. Anything else no one's told me?"

Dr. Stone looked down at a wheel on the hospital bed. The nurses and doctors took the hint and left the room, nodding or waving to Hotch, who was relieving the officer at the door. "Dr. Novick was right: Amy also has PTSD. We diagnosed it pretty early on, after hearing about what had happened in Bethel, but these more recent hallucinations confirm it."

Domonick's eyes widened, his mouth open slightly in shock. He turned slowly to look at Amy in the hospital bed, then sat at the edge, suddenly hardly able to stand.

"I know this is quick and sudden, but there's nothing else this could be in my opinion. I know this will be difficult, all mental illnesses are, but you can learn to cope with it. I overheard there was a schedule that was followed?"

Amy nodded.

"Then you have the timing the hallucinations will occur at. You couldn't be more prepared nor more lucky to be so prepared."

Domonick nodded slowly. "And here I was hoping he was wrong."

Amy shook her head. "In my opinion, it's better than schizophrenia."

"What's better than schizophrenia?" Hotch asked, peeking his head around the now-open door. Reid was on his way over with Eloïse at his side.

"PTSD," Amy said. "At least in _my_ opinion."

Reid walked in cheerfully. "Hello!"

"Just in time," Hotch said. "We just learned something new."

Reid looked confused. "We did?"

Amy nodded. "PTSD."

"What about PT-oh," he said, looking down. "I get it."

"Get what?" Eloïse asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I have PTSD," Amy said slowly, failing to avoid making eye contact.

Eloise's brown eyes widened. "Oh! You poor thing!"

Amy sighed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure. Just one more thing to monitor." She shook her head, reaching for her new iPod by her knees. She strained to grab it, stopping when she couldn't bend far enough. Dom slid it closer to her, and she grabbed it. "Thanks."

Dom nodded. "I know how music calms you, so I think it might just do us all a favor if you played some out loud?"

Amy looked at Dom in slight confusion.

He noted this, and clarified, saying, "You're agitated. That much is certain."

"Yeah, because people are feeling sorry for me!"

"And? It means they care!"

"No, not always!"

"Hey!" Eloïse exclaimed. "Just because we hardly know each other doesn't mean I don't care about you!"

Reid put his hand on her shoulder. "Let the siblings argue. They haven't done this in a while."

Eloïse gave Reid a "Isn't that a good thing?" look, but he simply put up a hand and she dropped it.

Dom sighed. "Listen, Am. You've been through a lot, I get it. But you aren't normally this agitated and it isn't normal for you to be building all of this up and not tell someone why you're so agitated. What more can we do besides sit through whatever the heck it is you're going to play on that iPod of yours?"

Amy thought for a moment. "You could always get the door for that reporter, Danielle Hunt."

Dom, Reid, and Eloïse turned to the door to see Danielle walking quickly over to the room in a black skirt, a sky blue, puff-cap-sleeved, button-down shirt, and three-inch black stiletto heels. On her shoulder was a large, black, canvas bag out of which poked notepads and a clipboard; in her hand her purse.

Dr. Stone turned to Amy. "You're observant."

Amy shrugged painfully, the heavy painkillers beginning to wear off. "I know. It doesn't help I was kind of expecting her to show up around now."

Dr. Stone nodded, impressed. "I'm going to like having you as a patient, I can already tell." With that, he left, opening the door as Danielle laughed at something Hotch had said.

"Oh! Thank you!" she said as Dr. Stone let her in. "I'll catch you later, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch nodded smiling. "I look forward to it."

Danielle smiled, then stepped inside the hospital room. "I'm back!"

Amy smiled. "I take it you got permission to do the articles?"

Danielle smiled even more. "I was actually asked to do them before I even got to ask if I could!"

Dom's eyes widened. "Wow. You really lucked out there."

Danielle blushed, saying, "They probably only did that to get me to shut up about getting unique articles about local current events."

Amy suddenly realized something. "Wait-how did you have a meeting if you're from Connecticut and we're currently in North Carolina?"

"Skype. I flew down here for a chance at writing an article a few weeks ago, but then they cancelled the feature and told me to take a vacation instead. I was supposed to leave yeterday, but they extened my leave. I can tell they really don't want me back in Connecticut for a while," Danielle said.

"I don't think that's why they extended the trip. You seem like you need a break, and it seems like they saw that and therefore gave one to you. Now they're giving you the next thing you seem to need," Reid said.

"Why would anyone do such a thing for me?" Danielle asked.

Amy smiled. "I ask myself the same things every day."

Danielle looked at Amy, her brown eyes glowing. "You don't seem depressed."

Amy shrugged. "Yeah, but I am the cause of so much death."

"Says you," Dom said.

Amy glared at Dom. "Says more than just me."

Dom shook his head. "No, only you think that negatively about yourself."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You were dead then, so it doesn't matter."

"Whoa there, Amy! What happened that made you think more than just you felt you were the cause of so much death?" Dom exclaimed.

Amy sighed. "The girls in my dance class after I changed back to street clothes were all nervous around me and practically ran away from me as if I was a deadly disease."

Reid's eyes widened. "Really? I didn't notice anything odd about their behavior."

"That's because you didn't know them," Amy said. "They'd always come up to me and ask me to help them learn steps or certain moves, compliment me, et cetera. Then they all quite suddenly felt I was nothing more than the cause of their death, which is mostly true."

"Stan caused their death, not you," Dom said.

Amy sighed. "Whatever." She turned her attention back to Danielle, who stood their like a deer in headlights, not understanding what was going on. "So, where do you want to start?"

Danielle jumped slightly, then said, "Oh! Uh...I..." She sighed. "I actually don't know. I guess I was hoping you'd have ideas."

Amy smiled as Dom chuckled, then hopped over to the couch. "Well, what do you need from us? What did your bosses want the articles to be about?"

Danielle held up a finger then set her bag down on the small table next to the window with a view out into the hospital. She dug through the bag and pulled out one of the large notepads, flipping through pages covered with blue and black scrawlings. A few had detailed drawings of faces on them. "Oh, wait-wrong notepad!" She laughed nervously, pulling out another notepad equally covered in scrawlings. She finally found the page she was looking for, and said, "Okay, let's see...interview requirements..." She flipped to the next page, then the next. "Ah! Here they are. Let's see...interview? Oh, right, that would be helpful for then my writing the article back in Connecticut, depending on what it is they want me to write." Danielle pursed her lips. "But then how am I supposed to...? Argh! My bosses are SO unhelpful sometimes!"

"Oh?" Amy asked as Reid leaned against the wall as Eloise sat in the chair.

"They didn't tell me what they wanted me to write about, just that I needed interviews! I can't publish interviews: they're too boring!" the reporter exclaimed. "That, and I'm going to need specific permission to even conduct interviews with agents...so it looks like it will be a while before I can even write the articles. By then, the people will no longer want to read about this, meaning I've wasted my time, as usual..." Danielle sighed, closing her eyes. "For once I'd like to actually get paid well for something I _do_, not out of guilt."

Amy nodded. "I understand. Well, you can always start with Dom and I."

Dom nodded, then added, "Except for the part about my being an agent."

Amy nearly slapped herself out of stupidity. "Right. Forgot about that already. I'm so used to you being...well, a normal brother with a normal job as an interpreter and photo-journalist."

"Well yeah, but that was because I was undercover. Instead of making me retire due to disability, my boss is putting me in a different area altogether."

"Oh?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, it's a sit-down version of the BAU for the CIA," Dom explained. "That's all I know."

Reid nodded. "I see."

Danielle, who had started doing something on her notepad, looked up quite suddenly. "Did someone say something to me?"

Everyone shook their heads. "No."

Danielle blinked. "Oh. Okay." She set her notepad down on the table, leaving it open to the start of a drawing of a man's face.

"Who's that?" Reid asked.

Danielle looked at him, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Hm?"

"In the picture. Who is he?" Reid asked again.

"Oh, him? That was Ryan," she said, staring at the picture with a smile.

"Ryan?" Dom asked.

"My fiancé," Danielle clarified. Her eyes suddenly widened and she flipped a page over it, showing another image of a man.

"That's not the same man," Reid said.

Danielle shook her head. "No, it's not, actually. I had to fill in as a criminal scetch artist for a month and a half while the actual one was on maternity leave. I messed up on this one, so I left it in the pad. I transfer images from my notepad to the actual paper they want me to draw it on after I've perfected it. It receives shading and other details..." She stared at Reid, who was flipping through her pad. "Two things: Why am I explaining this to you, and why are you going through that?"

Reid held up a finger as he leafed through them, stopping at one particular image. "Wow. This was from a while ago, wasn't it?"

Danielle's eyes narrowed. "Yes, why?"

He turned around the notepad. "Because that's a younger Stan."

Amy's eyes widened. "Oh gosh, you're right!" Amy's eyes returned to normal as she said, "You're really good."

Danielle blushed. "Thank you! And really? It is? That was my dance instructor in high school!"

Amy, Dom, and Reid all said in unison, "That's him!"

Danielle paled quickly. "Oh good God. Stan Carter, a murderer!"

Amy's eyes flew open wide. "Wait-did you just say Stan _Carter_?"

Danielle nodded. "Well yeah. He took the last name of Fields because Carter reminded him too much of his daughter Samantha and his wife Lucile...why are you looking at me that way?"

Amy looked away instantly, hyperventilating. "Stan...Lucile...Samantha...oh God no!"

"Amy, what's wrong?!" Dom exclaimed, trying to stand again but failing miserably.

Reid reached her instead. "Amy, what's wrong?"

"Samantha...his first..." Amy stammered, unable to continue.

Reid's eyes widened. "Oh God. You're not saying..."

Amy nodded as she and Reid both said, "He fell in love with his own daughter?!"

Amy nodded even more. "He did it first to himself, killing his own wife and family and all of his friends, just so he could be with his daughter in a more intimate fashion that was frowned upon by others. Then he kills her when he meets me...ten years later he's back to killing again."

Dom shook his head. "But you were five, and you're thirteen now. The Samantha Carter case happened ten years ago, not eight.

Reid's eyes narrowed. "Meaning he'd seen Amy before at the age of three somehow."

Amy nodded. "Back when I wouldn't have remembered it."

Dom's eyes widened. "No wonder I felt I'd seen him before when we first met him!"

Amy turned her attention to her brother, who was grabbing his crutches and making his way over to the others so he'd be closer to the conversation.

"Am, you wouldn't remember this, you're right, but I'm surprised I still do. We were at the beach once and Mom was trying to get you to like being in the ocean. You were kicking the water and crying and flailing and everything and it was so cute because you did not want _anything_ to do with the water whatsoever. Then a man walked over with his daughter, hand-in-hand, and he commented on how perfect you were as a three-year-old for dancing. Mom acknowledged him, thanking him, then he left, smiling. It was him. Without a doubt it was Stan and Samantha."

Amy looked at him in confusion. "I hated the ocean?"

Everyone laughed, and soon Amy was joining them, only stopping because she was in so much pain.


	12. Twelve

**Author's Note:**

**The writer's bane: writer's block. I suffer from it severely. There seems to be no other cure than writing anyways, so I shall write despite the fact that I have no idea as to where particular chapter is going (unlike other chapters).**

**Oh, which reminds me... ****Wait... Nevermind! Gotta decide on that title and what I'm doing for the cover now...any cover design ideas?**

**I'm also thinking about including Amy in any other of my Criminal Minds FanFics (and there will be more once I'm done with this series), but she would bring Dom and Eloïse along too...and I have ideas but I really need help on this stuff...**

**So read the chapter, PM me or review with ideas, and enjoy. My decision is final: once it is made, there is no turning back. That's the mentality behind this AUHL series.**

**To the actual chapter now...**

* * *

**Thursday, February 16th, 2012 2:18 PM  
****Local hospital, North Carolina**

Amy sighed. She'd spent the day with Domonick, Reid, and Eloise in the hospital, the reporter Danielle leaving shortly after the picture of Stan was shown. She'd been happy, sure, but that wasn't why she was sighing.

Amy closed her eyes. So much was coming forth now. Reid shared with them he also had a half-sister who, as Mrs. Meyes admitted, was married to Mrs. Meyes' son, James. Aryanna had heard about Amy, and wished to meet her once the time was right. Something about the way Reid talked about her caught Amy's attention, but she decided to ignore it...for now.

She knew Danielle was coming back, which was one reason Dom was gone. He and Reid had gone off to Reid's place for who-knows-what - Amy couldn't be sure, but she suspected Dom was getting ready to meet Danielle again and also working out the rooming arrangements they had been talking about the night before - and Eloise had gone off to talk to several people on her design team in a rather important meeting. Or so the fashion designer had claimed.

Amy sighed again. There was one thing missing from her life now, something she never knew she'd miss having. It was a someone, actually. She felt she owed that someone something, but in truth, that someone owed them quite a bit more than she owed them. That someone ruined her life, yes, but that someone was still someone she cared about.

"Stan," Amy whispered, the name echoing in the otherwise-empty hospital room. She was the only one inside, alone amidst monitors and other pieces of technology that could keep her alive and monitored if she was or not. "Stan Fields." The name sounded right. "Stan Carter." That too, however, sounded right. "Stan..." Amy sighed. It hurt to sigh now. Her upper torso was killing her, so-to-speak. "Stan...how could you? You and I were perfectly fine as family friends and you being my dance instructor. Why did you change that? It's cost you your life now, and it's cost me my ability to walk and dance. You've ruined your favorite part of me. For what? A love we could never have? Stan..." Amy cut her whisperings off as she saw Reid, Domonick, and Danielle walking over. Dom had changed into decent tan pants and a blue button down shirt, the long black brace a sign of his handicapmnent. Reid was the same, still wearing that maroonish button down shirt and black pants. Amy smiled and waved, then regretted waving, instantly pressing her hands to her waist as the flaming tendrils of pain massaged her from the inside and tickled her on the out.

She was having difficulty breathing as Rossi allowed Reid, Dom, and Danielle inside. Dom was over by her side as quickly as he could on his crutches. "Amy, are you okay?"

"Can't...really...breathe...hurts...too...much..." Her voice came out in high-pitched gasps.

Reid was already on his way out the door as he exclaimed, "I'll get a nurse!"

Dom nodded, taking Amy's hand. "It'll go away soon, I promise."

All Amy could do was nod and wince in pain, pressing her lips tight to prevent the scream that so desperately wished to escape. She didn't bother adding her thoughts: _Please don't promise something you cannot control!_

The nurse arrived very quickly with Dr. Stone and Reid. "Amy, what's wrong?"

As soon as Amy opened her lips, her eyes squeezed shut and she screamed.

Dr. Stone nodded. "Same medication, same dose. It's simply worn off."

The nurse nodded and walked over to Amy's IV, sticking a small plunger into a spot in the cord. "There. That should do the trick soon."

Dr. Stone nodded, dismissing the nurse with, "Thank you, Fannie."

Amy's eyes were squeezed shut, but the tears kept flowing anyways.

Dr. Stone stood at the end of her hospital bed, biting his lip, his hands clasped behind his back. "I know it hurts. Believe me, I know."

Dom and Reid both nodded. "So do I," they said in unison, then exchanged glances.

Dr. Stone nodded as well. "1996, shot in the hip. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

Amy nodded, not wishing to hear more of being shot. "Please, let's." The pain was slowly subsiding as the medication worked its way through her system. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to Danielle and asked, "So, did you wish to begin today?"

Danielle stood, having sat on the arm of Dom's chair. "Uh, yes. Only if you're ready, of course."

"As I'll ever be."

Danielle dug into her bag and took out a tape recorder, a pen, and a notepad. "All I'm going to ask is for you to talk and say whatever it is you want. Whatever information I don't get that I think I might need I'll ask at a later date. Alright?"

"Yes, that's fine."

Reid quickly asked, "Should we leave?"

Dr. Stone quickly asked, "Which of you is her brother? You look so alike."

Dom raised his hand.

"I need to speak to you. Come with me to my office, and we'll talk."

Dom slowly stood, told Amy he'd be back, and followed Dr. Stone on his crutches.

Danielle watched as Dom left, smiling. "You can stay if you want, and if Amy doesn't mind."

Amy shook her head. "I don't mind."

Reid sat again, nodding. "Alright. I'll stay."

"Whenever you're ready, Amy, just give me a second to start recording, okay?"

Amy nodded, took a deep breath, nodded again, and began to speak. "Where to start? I guess the easiest thing to say is I never thought I'd be in this kind of a situation. This is the kind of thing you see on TV in crime dramas, where there's a really bad crime and the police come to save the current victim at the last minute. In a way, that's what this feels like. But then in another way, it feels all too much like a nightmare to be real. Then in yet another way, it's reality, and I have to face it.

"I guess the easiest thing to say is I expected everything that happened. I expected Stan's anger. I expected our singing argument. I expected being shot. I expected his death. But I also expected things that didn't happen. I expected to die painlessly. I didn't expect that I'd live, nor did I expect to live in so much pain and uncertainty. But I know I have to accept this and move on. Granted, I can't move on one step at a time, but I can be sure to do it a different way.

"Stan took away more than just my loved ones, virginity, and ability to walk and dance. He took away my ability to move on properly. I am forever cursed with reminders that part of me belongs to him, and therefore I feel like I don't belong here on Earth, but nor do I belong dead. What I've decided is I belong in a world that's pretty judgemental and not the slightest bit accepting, but I know that's where I fit.

"Music is all I've really lived on for the past two months. Now I really can't see existing in a world without it being my center. The flow of sound to rhythm and patterns is simply a form of magic in regards to my mental and emotional state. Music transports me to a better life, where I have everyone I know and love around me and everyone knows and loves me, too. Music is magic. It calms me, it soothes me, it inspires me. Granted, taking the stage will be pretty difficult considering my immovability. I'll have to play piano for a while and sing, or simply sit while I sing, which is really not the greatest for the voice, but whatever. I have no choice anymore.

"What I'm trying to say is this: I'm not going to let the past hinder me more than I can cope with. I'll be hindered physically, sure, but my mind's been made up to make sure nothing like this happens to anyone else, because it's simply wrong. No one should have to watch their loved ones die. No one should have to feel responsible for death or injury or destruction. No one should have to feel like they deserve to die because of what happened. Unfortunately, I do. Music helps take that feeling away as I express it. I suppose I use music as a crutch where I'm not strong enough to go and move on. I just want to feel better and help others. What more can I ask for?

"The answer's simple, really: I can't ask for more than I'm willing to give. And I'm only willing to give what I am capable of giving. And right now, that isn't much, but it's all I've got."

* * *

**Yep. All's left is an epilogue, and Wounded's done. I have a very genius idea for the epilogue.**

**The new story will be called...heh heh heh, foreshadowing...Savior From The Grave. It won't be out for a while, just a warning.**


	13. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

**Like I said, all that's left is an epilogue. Well, here it is!**

**Like I also said, the next book will be called Savior From The Grave. Check my profile for updates, or PM me.**

**Thanks for your support!**

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**Tuesday, March 27th, 2012 3:24 PM  
****Somewhere in Virginia, United States**

An older man walked home slowly, a younger man by his side, helping him up the porch steps and into the two story yellow, blue-shuttered, and white-trimmed house. The younger man set a bag of groceries down on the floor near the kitchen countertops before helping the older man over to a Lay Z Boy recliner. The older man sat slowly, wincing in pain once seated.

"Blast these wretched wounds," the older man complained.

"Uncle, don't say such things. Especially not in front of me," the younger man argued.

The older man waved off his words. "It doesn't matter, boy. I'll say what I want to say, just as you'll watch what you want to watch...what are you doing?"

The young man looked up from the remote control guiltily. "Just trying to find a channel."

The older man pursed his lips, sighed, and shook his head. "What are you looking for?"

The young man turned back on the television. "I overheard in the store that this girl, Amy Nickhoales, was going to be on TV today, talking with Dr. Phil to these kids involved in pornography and prostitution. Then, later today, she's going to be singing."

Something in the older man's expression changed when he heard the young girl's name. "Amy Nickhoales, you say?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, why? Do you know her?"

The older man shook his head slowly. "No, I've simply heard a lot about her. Poor child lost everyone she knew."

The young man frowned. "That's sad. But I've heard her brother survived with possibly permanent damage to his leg."

The older man quickly asked, "What was the man's name?"

"Domonick Nickhoales, Uncle. Why?"

The older man looked at the floor slowly, his lips quivering. "Oh, nothing. Just curiosity, really."

The young man nodded skeptically. "Alright. Do you know what channel Dr. Phil is on?"

The older man relayed the channel as if in a daze, staring at the TV screen once the show returned.

Dr. Phil was speaking. "Alright. I know it's a pretty early show, but we are very lucky to have certain guests with us. I want to help you kids because you need to understand how wrong what you're doing is. However, I can't explain much from a first-hand point of view because I've never been in this kind of a situation. Therefore, I'd like to introduce a very special guest: Amy Nickhoales."

The audience went wild as Amy Nickhoales was wheeled over from backstage, the FBI agent Dr. Spencer Reid pushing her next to Dr. Phil. Amy nodded, smiled, and waved weakly to the audience. Dr. Reid hovered behind her.

Dr. Phil addressed her. "Now, Amy. I know you've spoken to various groups of people about rape prevention and your experience" - Amy nodded here - "and I know you've been doing a lot of singing lately as well " - Amy nodded again - "but how is your experience related in any way, shape, or form to what is going on with this ring here?"

Amy smiled. "Honestly, Dr. Phil, it is very closely similar if you look at details. Fiona here admitted she was forced into this...industry, so technically it could be classified as rape. The um, man who uh, did what he did to me-"

Dr. Phil interrupted. "Could you please use names and specifics?"

Amy sighed. "I would rather not, but if you so dearly wish me to say such things, I shall. The man who did what he did to me, Stan Fields, didn't just rape me and leave me in my room, he didn't just teach me more music or more dances, no. He also...I..." Amy drifted off quite suddenly, her eyes widening, hands suddenly trembling.

The older man leaned forward in his recliner in worry. "What's happening to her?"

The young man shook his head, handing his uncle a bowl of freshly-made popcorn.

Dr. Reid was quickly by her side and taking her hands, whispering to her. Amy soon enough calmed down, returning to normal...except her face was a significantly darker shade of red.

"Sorry about that," Amy said. "I have PTSD from it all, so that happens sometimes."

Dr. Phil nodded sympathetically. "I understand. You were saying?"

Amy closed her eyes, and continued. "Stan also would take time out of dance and have Dr. Reid here be the only one watching as he would slowly undress me completely, kissing me all over and caressing me, doing everything possible to get what he wanted without actually raping me. That was...a new addition to the routine once Dr. Reid had arrived. Stan had taken out 'love sessions' after...well, I stood up, I suppose, and therefore this took its place."

Dr. Phil's eyes were wide. "Wow. But this still doesn't necessarily connect."

Amy sighed. "If you'll let me finish, I'll explain more." Her voice was slightly forceful, but Dr. Phil waved for her to continue, so she did. "Stan also happened to enjoy recording 'love sessions' and taking pictures of me afterwards and things like that."

Dr. Phil and the teens involved in the prostitution and pornography ring were shocked, eyes wide, some with jaws dropped. The girl Amy had addressed as Fiona was crying, a blonde girl next to her crying as well.

Dr. Phil finally spoke after several minutes of silence. "So...in that way it connects. What do you have to say to them? I know you must have something, Amy." Dr. Phil turned his head to the audience. "She always does."

Amy glared at him, but said, "Yes, you're right, I do." Amy turned her head to the teens around her. "First off, how old are you?"

They all relayed their ages, none younger than 15 but none older than 20.

"You're all older than me, sure, and some legally old enough to purchase pornography. Fantastic. But that doesn't mean you go off and start doing your own videos and slideshows and stuff with people who could be considered underage. The worst part about this all is that those involved in the prostitution side are selling yourself to someone who really doesn't give a damn."

The audience gasped.

"I'm serious! Most people who higher prostitutes only want them for the sex, nothing else. You sell yourself to no doubt a man who not only doesn't care about you, but also is a complete stranger to you. You don't know where he's been nor what he's got. For all you know, he could have STDs or HIV and you might never even know!"

Fiona and the blonde girl were crying even harder now.

Amy sighed. "I can already tell Fiona and Heidi are with me on this, and were probably forced into it. Not too sure about Courtney nor Victoria, but I know for a fact Kyle, Luke, Cooper, and Paul here are not on my side yet. I don't see why you would be yet, considering I haven't addressed anything in regards to your involvement-"

A boy (Luke) suddenly interrupted. "No, I get it. We were wrong, we need to stop, Dr. Phil's going to get us help, terrific. What I don't get is why were you dragged into all of this?"

Amy sighed. "Because you need to know from another angle what it feels like to be in this situation. That, and Dr. Phil already booked me for the next show, so I offered to speak to you as well."

Luke shrugged, his lip and nose piercings glinting in the stage lights.

Amy sighed.

The older man was glued to the screen so long Amy was on. He was upset when the show ended, but encouraged his nephew to change the channel to find where and when she was singing.

The young man exclaimed with joy, "Aha! I found it! Here it is!"

Instantly the screen was on Amy sitting at a grand piano, playing a brief intro to her song. As she sang, the older man knew she had written the song and smiled, enjoying the child's beautiful voice.

"She has talent," said his nephew.

The older man smiled. "Amy sure does."

The two watched her show until it ended, and, after finding nothing else listed in regards to her, the young man helped his uncle into the dining room, then prepared a small dinner for the two of them, seeing that it was already 6:00.

As they ate, the older man sighed. "It is a shame what happened to our family, is it not?"

The young man nodded. "Indeed. I never got to meet Aunt Lucile or Samantha. I'd lived in Surrey for all that time."

The older man nodded, tearing up at the mentioning of his late wife and child. "Indeed. I miss them so. You would have loved them, I know it to be true."

The young man smiled sadly, and the two continued the meal in silence.

Around 8:00, the young man helped the older man upstairs to his room, then left him after a "good night, Uncle," and a "good night, Peter," were shared. The older man sat at the edge of his bed until he heard Peter himself go to bed an hour later. The older man then stood, grasping his cane, and hobbled painfully over to his dresser, where a small, locked, wooden box rested. He carefully picked up the box and set it down on his bed, sitting down next to it. He reached down his shirt and pulled out a small chain with his and his late wife's wedding bands, as well as her engagement ring, their child's baby ring, and a small key. Taking off the chain, he unlocked the box with the key and pulled out a small photo album. He stared at the pictures in longing. The beginning images were black and white or sepia, and they included family and, eventually, wedding photos. Soon the images were in color, getting clearer and clearer as he flipped the pages. His wife and daughter, his daughter and a much younger him, anniversaries and birthdays, et cetera. Eventually, the images were no longer of his family, but of his favorite child not related to him. He smiled as he watched her grow through the images, and continued smiling even after he closed the album. He sighed as he set the treasured book down on the bed next to him, taking out a dried rose and a fading card. He read the blue cursive over and over again:

_To my dear husband,_

_May this little something be everything and more._

_Celebrating our tenth anniversary,_

_Lucile_

He smiled, setting down the card and rose to wipe his eyes with his hands. He took out another card, this one with marker drawings and big marker handwriting.

_Daddy,_

_I love you sooooooo very much. Happy Valentine's Day!_

_L3ve,_

_Samantha_

He set that card down as well, wiping more tears from his eyes. He pulled out another card, this one with much neater marker writing and drawings.

_Thank you for teaching us all so much about dance._

There were signatures everywhere, but one signature was much better than the others. His finger traced that one before he set it down, more tears in his eyes. He pulled out more and more cards, and finally, he took out the treasures that had been on top of them. A small vial filled with tiny shells and fine sand from that life-changing trip to the beach, a charm bracelet from his daughter's tiny wrist, a few playing cards (specifically the eight of hearts, the queen of diamonds, and the ace of spades), a small gold pocket-watch, a blue Barbie shoe with a suspicious red heel and sole, an empty emerald green velvet ring box, and something else. That something else remained in his hand as he put the cards back in, followed by the ring box and the playing cards, followed by the gold pocket-watch and vial of sand and shells, followed by the Barbie shoe and charm bracelet, followed by the photo album. He closed and locked the box, setting it down on his nightstand. He put the chain back on, tucking it under his shirt, and laid back on his bed. Before he turned off the light, he opened his clenched fist and smiled sadly. He carefully opened the silver locket and fingered the images inside. Oh how he missed her so.

"Tomorrow, I am fifty three," he whispered. "Someday, Amy, I'll find you again. I will not let us stay apart forever."

After he closed the locket, he turned off the nightstand light. Clenching the locket in his hand, he went to sleep.

Anyone that had listened to their conversations would have picked up keenly on their accents. On their..._British_ accents. And anyone would admit that the older man seemed like he wished he were dead.

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**End of Book Three.**


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